#I’m tired of being a pianist

[rierice8]

Its not enough to be a virtuoso if theres always some 5 year old who does it 10 times better

I hate 5 year olds.

#x factor be like #this kid is blind deaf missing three fingers and an arm plays with his feet and is actively 3 years old #but he plays Hungarian rhapsody as if he was fucking Liszt himself #I’m tired of being a pianist #I hate piano #grrr #piano #rice dying #musician

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞

summary: tainted, virgin!reader is growing tired of grinding against her boyfriends. she’s never touched herself before—no toys, no fingers, no fondling—the friction from a pillow used to be enough. but, maybe having something inside of her isn’t as terrifying as she believed. charles’ pretty pianist fingers don’t look too scary, and they way he raves about how talented max’s daunting thicker fingers are; well, she could be convinced to see what all the fuss is about. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. fingering. hand and finger kink. guided masturbation. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. dialogue heavy. max is a brat tamer. word count: 2.7k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: pressure • ari lennox

preface: *laughs maniacally*

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

max stated, “when you get your nails done today, don’t get a new set. keep them natural; you can get polish but keep them short and rounded with no sharp edges.”

you stared at max with a lukewarm expression. it’s seven in-the-fucking morning, and he’s woken you up from your extremely comfortable position tucked into charles’ chest to tell you that you’re getting your nails done and exactly how he wants them done. he must have lost his mind overnight.

“d’you think,” you croaked out, voice unused from sleep, “that getting my nails done will distract me from realizing that my thighs have healed from the friction burn?”

the dutchman opened his mouth to speak but you held up a hand to shush him, and continued scratchily, “‘cause it hasn’t worked. ‘n i don’t even have an appointment to get my nails done? ‘s not happening today.”

“i made one,” he responded with a self-satisfied smile, “it’s in an hour.”

“WHAT THE HELL, MAX?!” you exclaimed, fighting through the layers of blankets tangled around you to make your way out of bed to rush through getting yourself ready. charles, still asleep, snuffled unhappily at the commotion and rolled over facing away from the two of you.

max chuckled mutely as he watches you stumble off the bed towards to en-suite bath, “use my black card–i’m sure it’ll cover the late fee.”

slamming the bathroom door shut, your yell carries through the door, “I WAS GOING TO USE IT ANYWAYS!”

thanks to years of lounging in bed to the last possible second before you needed to get ready, you were exactly on time to your appointment. it’s a boujee “self-care salon” that you don’t usually go to but it’s pretty much impossible to mess up a soak-off and basic manicure. actually, max is paying so there’s really no harm in treating yourself. you go from a basic manicure to the most luxurious mani-pedi package they offer, there’s even a hand, arm, foot, and calf massage included. you leave a healthy tip too; it’s not like you can run up max verstappen’s black card, he won’t even notice.

by the time you get home, you’ve completely forgotten about being mad at max for terrorizing you with morning. but, you’re quickly reminded of why when he jumps you as soon as you walk in the front door, tugging you in by your hands as he examines your nails.

“sheesh,” you gasp, “can i close the door first?” 

charles, more awake but still disgruntled (he considers any-time before noon “too early to be awake), apparates from around the corner and walks to shut the door behind you. he wordlessy shimmies your keys and bag out of your hands, and presses a kiss to your cheek, “bonjour, mon coeur.”

“good morning, charlie,” you murmur sweetly, ignoring max’s general incompetence, “may i…” you shift awkwardly on your feet, “can i have a real kiss, please?”

the brunet’s discontented gaze turned to liquid gold warming your body with the amount of love that poured through just one glance. he leans in to kiss you but yelps, flinching away from you at a pinch on his arm from max.

the older man grunts, “bedroom first. then you can make out with each other to your hearts content.”

your legs have turned to mush from deep kisses, so you’re thankful to be seated on top of charles’ lap on your vanity chair. the monegasque has one hand fisted in the curls at the nape of your neck, moving your head to just the angle he likes as he continues to explore past the seam of your lips. he doesn’t allow you to pull away for more than half a second to catch your breath, all of your hums, moans, and whimpers of delight are caught in his mouth. the lust fogs your brain as he nips and tugs at your bottom lip, the soft skin surrounding your lips raw already from his stubble. the weight of his large hand resting on the small of your back combined with the overwhelming sensations has you shifting your hips rocking back and forth on charles’ thigh, yet you haven’t consciously noticed you actions yet. you haven’t noticed how max has been calling your name to get your attention for a while now.

“liefje, come here,” max’s voice has a commanding edge to it, that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention, “you’ve been patient like i’ve mentioned. so, i think it’s time you experience more than one of our thighs, hm?”

you squirm of charles’ lap, prying his hands off your waist when he tries to tighten his grasp, and eagerly make your way over to the foot of the bed where max is sitting–has he been watching the whole time? the monegasque huffs loudly to inform the two of you of how displeased he is at you discarding him quickly at the promise of something more. the younger man stands up and doesn’t manage to take more than one step in your direction before max halts him.

“and where do you think you’re going?” max asks condescendingly, he pulls you down to sit in between his legs, his chest to your back, so you can face charles, “only good boys get to participate. and if i can remember…two days ago, you decided to be a brat.”

the brat in question reddens, “yes! i was…being mean–but, you said that i don’t get to come, not that i don’t get to touch her?”

max shrugs dismissively, and he starts to undress you–pulling off your shirt to leave you in your bra, while he motions for you to tug off your jeans.

“mon chat–this is unfair,” charles whines, “let me touch her!”

“you want to touch her?” max asks, charles nods eagerly in response, “say you were a brat and apologize, and then maybe i’ll let you touch her.”

the brunet gapes at his boyfriend, stumbling over his words for a few seconds, before he turns to look at you, expecting you to help him out. you curl up, dropping your gaze to your lap and pulling max’s hand around you to play with it while he sorts out charles. the monegasque, too stubborn to do anything but disagree with max, clenches his jaw and fists, before he steps and back and sits in your vanity chair again. he crosses his arms across his chest, and turns his head up at max to emphasize his attitude.

“mmm,” the blonde’s chest rumbles behind you, he dips his head to press a kiss to your temple, “he’ll learn how to act once he realizes he won’t be able to finger your pussy, pretty girl.”

you and charles both jolt with matching gasps of surprise at the reveal of today’s sexual exploration. a meek whimper escapes you and max coos sweetly, “do you want to this, liefje?”

you nod shakily, ignoring the flush of heat to your cheeks and the way you press your thighs together a little tighter. 

“words, baby.”

“y-yes, maxy.”

“remember the rules: any time you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we can stop or take a break.”

“y-yeah,” you say airly, “ok.”

“good girl.”

max tilts your head to the side and lavishes kisses along your neck. your breath catches at the unexpected attention, you can only rest limply against max as he sucks marks into your skin. he nips teasingly at your pulse point and you tighten your grasp on his hand to prevent yourself from moaning embarrassingly loud. you let your head fall backwards to give max complete access to the length of your throat, and in the motion you make eye contact with charles. his green eyes are piercing–you can see the envy, yet you can’t tell if he wishes he was max in this moment, or if he wishes he was you.

the dutchman moves lower and focuses on bruising up your collarbone, tugging and biting at the thin skin and you’ve quickly lost your ability to regulate your volume. every exhale transforms into a moan and max’s free hand gets more exploratory as a result. his lips are wet and flushed red when he pulls himself away from the expanse of your newly bruised neck, playing absently with the strap of your bra and whispers next to your ear, “may i take this off, liefje?”

“yeah, yes, yes–take it off,” you rush out, turning shy at the sound of max’s amusement, “you can take it off, please?”

the use of manners quiets the man’s laughter easily; something about the way you use ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ unhesitantly in bed causes his brain to misfire. he rids you of the bra, tossing it at charles, who catches it and stares at max in disdain.

the older man smirks, and brings both of his hands to your chest to ghost the pads of his thumbs against your nipples. the barely there touch had your back arching, pushing your breasts more firmly into his grasp to seek more of the sensation. his chest rumbles behinds you and he steadfastly applies more pressure as he toys with the buds–your moans are more like sharp whines now, and whenever he throws in an occasional pinch you shriek, as your vision already blurs from this level of pleasure. you’ll cum before he gets his hand inside your panties.

you clumsy pull at his right hand, trying to tug it away from your breast to direct him further south, but max tuts disapprovingly and you cease your motions as soon as the sound registers.

“actually, liefje–you won’t need my hand for this part, only my voice.”

you tilt your head towards him to stare in confusion, and max brings his hand up to caress your cheek, “i’m going to teach you how to finger yourself, if that’s okay?”

you gulp, the pressure in your tummy only building, “more than okay.”

max nods, and presses a kiss on your jawline.

“be good for me and touch yourself over your panties, pretty girl.”

you squirm anxiously, but do as he ordered. you drag your hand down past your navel and in between your thighs, trying to keep them as closed as possible without having yourself spread out obscenely. max, obviously, doesn’t allow that to slide, and spreads your legs for you, draping them along the outside of his, his knees pressing outwards to prevent you from slamming your thighs shut. you whimper shamefully, but continue to drag two fingers along the seam of your cunt over your thin panties, the fabric beginning to darken as you start to leak.

“nice and slow until you start to get wet for me, yeah?”

“‘m already wet, maxy,” you murmur, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

(“merde,” charles groans from across the room, throwing his head backwards.)

max brings his hand down to tug your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cooler air of the room, and moans at how your glistenting already, “shit–always so wet for me. keep dragging your fingers up and down, liefje.”

max’s hand continues to rest on your navel after he tucked your panties away, and you quickly bore of the slide of your fingers, huffing silently and nudging your nose against his jaw for the next direction, “once your fingers are nice and wet, you’re going to take just one–and gently press inside, yeah? you should be nice and relaxed, okay–if your pretty hole doesn’t open up easily just keep rubbing at yourself and then try again.”

you nod jerkily, and your first attempt at breaching your inner walls fails. you chickened out–after your felt yourself opening up, the pressure was odd. however, with max’s reassurance, you took another pass over your cunt and then tried again. and this time, your finger easily slid within in you–a shocked gasp pushed from your chest at the intrusion. 

“you’re okay,” max murmurs, rubbing at your side and navel calmly, “take your time, get used to the feeling, and when your ready you can start moving that finger, liefje.”

it’s odd–the feeling of something inside you. a little uncomfortable, but not painful like you thought it would be. the strange feeling passes quickly, especially when you draw your finger out and press deeper–it feels good? you think, it feels good at least. max watches the array of emotion pass over your face, and once he sees the previous apprehension dissipate, he instructs you to slide in another finger. the addition for another finger is easier for you this time, even though the pressure is multiplied–as if once you learned that this wouldn’t be painful you were a lot more receptive to the intrusion. 

and when your second finger pops in, the stretch feels good. you sigh breathily, and without further instruction, you begin to slowly thrust your fingers. max leans back and allows you to awkwardly fumble through your own motions, allowing you to figure out what brings you pleasure and what doesn’t. you mimic what you’ve heard girls talk about before, curling your fingers, scissoring them wide, pressing them upwards–and it feels fucking euphoric. your moans begin to ring through the room, and your hips buck dowards to meet your palm, pushing in your fingers deep.

“hm–you see why you needed your nails cut now, pretty girl,” max teases. his words go unheard by you, you’re more focused on trying to find the one spot everybody raves about–you want your vision to flash white, your toes to curl, your eyes to roll, your back to arch, your chest to heave–but you can’t find it. you whine in displeasure, kicking your foot out angrily, and begin to more vigorously thrust your fingers to no avail. 

“let me give you a hand, pretty.”

max gently removes your hand, a sob falling from your lips at the newfound emptiness, but quickly soothes you with the press of two of his fingers inside of you. you and max moan in unison–max at the feeling of  just how tight and dripping wet you are and you at the size of his fingers. max patiently waits for you to adjust, before he begins to absolutely ravage your pussy. his fingers are unforgiving; his rhythm is consistent, the pads of his fingers press firmly along your walls, and he finds your sweet spot after his second attempt of searching.

you shriek, legs trying and failing to slam shut at the overload of pleasure—max coos, ‘good girl’s’ and ‘so pretty’s’ falling from his lips freely. it’s a testament to how talented he is with is fingers that as soon as his thumb falls to press at the bud of your clit–you cum.

it surprises you, max, and charles (from across the room). it’s so overwhelming you cry–forget a toe-curling orgasm, you’e pretty sure you’ve just forgotten your name. your hips are frantically thrusting forward freely, and maxx continues to rub his hand over yout clit until you start bucking away from him in discomfort. you’ve soaked the bed, again. the dutchman tenderly pulls his fingers from the pulsing warmth of your cunt, and calls charles to the bed.

the younger man rushes forward, kneeling on the bed next to max. wordlessly, the blonde shoves his fingers covered in your essence into his mouth, smirking wide at how charles’ eyes widen, exposing his blown out pupils, before they drop to a half-lidded gaze as he thoroughly slurps max’s fingers clean.

when charles pulls away from max’s hand, panting heavily like he was the one who was just brought to a mind-blowing orgasm, max drops that same saliva-covered hand to grope at the bulge in charles’ pants.

the monegasque moans highly, hips thrusting forward to press deeper in to max’s hand–but he pulls it away cruelly.

“you better go take a cold shower charles, since you still can’t come for a while,” max orders nonchalantly, “you might want to put some music on while you’re in there. i would hate for you to get hard again when you hear me make her squirt.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarrii @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock@biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris @xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari

© httpsserene 2023

#f1 smut #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #lestappen #charles leclerc x female reader #max verstappen x female reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #max verstappen x black!reader #poly!formula 1 #poly f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #serene’s chapters. #serene’s fave. #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: cl. #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: mv. #httpss :// 1k special.

[sinsirellaxx]

I love love love your toxic Slytherin boys series. Can you write how they would react if you tried to give them notes (aka constructively criticize them in bed). I think it would be cute/funny. ILY!

Slytherin boys – you (respectfully) criticize them in bed

Warning: Toxic boys and slight smut here and there

A/N: I'm sorry, this isn't as funny and cute as I initially wanted it to be – but I hope you still enjoy it! Love you too! ❤️

Mattheo …

… is shocked. He’d be deeply offended but instead of blowing up or trying to argue he’ll just have to prove that he is unmatched in bed. Whatever you tell him, he’ll disprove. If you tell him that he should pay more attention to your clit, whenever he goes down on you, he would do exactly that. But with a twist: he’d not stop until you were crying from being overstimulated, the muscles in your thighs spasming – your body completely shutting off.

“Already tired, love?” He’d murmur breathlessly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’re just getting started, doll. You’re in for a long night.”

Theodore …

… blinked at you when you told him he was always too rough. “Too rough?” He questioned; his brows raised. Your cheek flushed red as you fidgeted in front of him, slowly nodding your head as you confessed that it hurt sometimes.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, tesoro.” He whispered softly, tracing your jaw with his fingers before taking a hold of your chin. “I’ll be more careful. Sometimes I just can’t help it – I get lost in the feeling of you.” He mumbled seductively as he lifted your face to kiss you.

Lorenzo …

… scoffed when you told him that he was bad with his fingers. He glared at you as you apologized, telling him that you didn’t mean to offend him. Lorenzo would not touch you for days. He’d reject any advances from you and watch your face fall every time.

He’d wait until the perfect timing until he made his move – which was in class. You were sitting next to him at the far back of the classroom. Enzo moved his right hand to your thigh, the corners of his lips twitching as he felt you flinch and tense up. His fingers teased the hem of your skirt before moving his fingers towards your panties. You tried removing his hand from advancing any further, but he managed to slip his fingers under the cotton fabric, slowly teasing your slit.

He'd show you how talented he was with his fingers. He was an excellent pianist after all.

Draco …

… is offended. No matter how nice and careful you were about it Draco was mad. He’d be ashamed. Instead of trying to listen to you he would completely reject whatever you have to say.

He wouldn’t initiate intimacy for the next few weeks either and would always find an excuse. “I’m not in the mood.” “Not now.”

He would be so petty about the whole thing. You would have to pull him aside and talk to him about it, reassuring him that he was great.

Blaise …

… laughed out loud. When you repeated what you said and told him you were being serious, he stopped. He didn’t know what to say either but after gathering his thoughts he asked you to exactly tell him what you want before removing his shirt. He’d not let you leave before you hadn’t told him how you liked it.

Tom …

… threw you on his bed before you could even open your lips to speak. He read your mind – which he occasionally did – and was shocked to hear you weren’t completely satisfied. He had taken offense to your thoughts and the only way for him to forgive you is to make you regret thinking them.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys imagine #toxic slytherin boys #smuttish #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader

[dailyaoyagi]

TW: abuse

Talking about everything Toya went through as a kid because I’m really tired of seeing people downplay it.

I should not have to make this at all but even after the First Concerto I’m still seeing people downplay what Harumichi did to Toya which is just…yes he’s not getting abused on screen like Mafuyu is and his dad isn’t manipulative like Mafumom but that still doesn’t make any of it ok? The reading comprehension in this fandom is really poor to say the least so here’s a post talking about what he went through.

The First Concerto reveals that Toya first touched the piano at 3. Does that seem normal to anyone? Ever since then his dad would forcibly isolate him and force him to play piano perfectly until he got it right. We only know one piece his dad would force him to perfect and that’s Fantasie Importu. You know. This.

And if forcing a toddler to play this isn’t bad enough if he messed up even once his dad would force him to do it all over again. FFS he wasn’t allowed to go to bed until he perfected it, that’s not normal for any kid. His dad explicitly ignored Toya telling him his fingers hurt as well and it caused him to break out into fevers and tendinitis. Even if his dad had the best intentions that’s still abuse plain and simple and there’s no excuse for it.

Another not so friendly reminder that Toya wasn’t allowed to go on trips or do anything that would even remotely be considered dangerous to his hands because his parents were paranoid about him not being able to become a pianist. He never got to experience anything normal kids got to because of his parents strict training and rules. All he’d ever get to do was sit in that one room being forced to play over and over again with no breaks for long hours which again isn’t ok. I’m so tired of seeing people downplay what he went through because “at least Harumichi isn’t Mafumom”.

I thankfully haven’t seen much of this after the First Concerto but I’ll still address it anyways: I really dislike the notion that Toya’s perfectly ok with everything now when he’s not? Disregarding how we see him break down because of it in the First Concerto he still has difficulty expressing himself and is still repressed emotionally. He’s very obviously healing yes but not everything is ok for him now, and it probably never will be because what he went through would fuck up anyone for life. I know that Harumichi only wanted the best for him and had one good moment during the First Concerto but that didn’t erase anything he did. In general can we please stop comparing him to Mafumom and trying to decide which one is worse? Because regardless of which one you say is worse it’ll feel like downplaying what the other went through.

That is all, I hope I don’t have to make this post again. Take a cute Toya on your way out.

#project sekai #toya aoyagi #abuse tw #child abuse tw #really hope I don’t have to make anything like this again #I’m sorry this was a lot more serious then what you’d expect but I’m so fed up with this fanbase #Youtube

[gimme-noodles-please]

Could you write something angst hurt and comfort for lovebrush Ayn please?

ayn x reader

angst & comfort <3

wc: 770

content: reader is stressed out by school and breaks down in front of ayn. big hugs to everyone out there, you can do it! <3

—————————————————

It was a long day after school, you and Ayn had agreed to meet up at your house for a date. Well, it was you who suggested it a week ago to teach Ayn how to bake chocolate chip cookies, which he did at first scoff at the idea since he does not need to learn them and neither does he have interest in it (he is only interested in the eating part) but since you are his beloved girlfriend, he agreed. (He is actually excited even though he does not show it)

However when the day came, you found yourself trudging the way home. Perhaps it was the weather today, or that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or that you forgot to bring your pencil case to school; you felt horrible. Perhaps it was because of the weight of school work and the incoming exams finally weighing down on you and causing you to feel just this close to breaking down. You had considered cancelling the date with Ayn but being able to read his emotions despite his, sometimes, cold demeanour, can be a blessing and a curse at the same time. You would feel horrible if you were to cancel it last minute when you could tell he was obviously anticipating this to finally spend some alone time with you. He was also busy too, especially when he had his career of being a pianist alongside being a student at the academy. Who are you to complain?

You sigh as you unlock the door, feeling a little uneasy at how silent your house was. Oh, right, Cael offered to help take care of your cat because of your busy schedule. You locked the door behind you and set down your things, getting ready for your date.

Soon, Ayn arrived, right on time as he promised. However, something was a little off about him, his smile seemed a little… forced. (He had a meeting with his father and was feeling a little grumpy) You brushed it off, assuming he was just tired. It was pretty much fine at first as you both baked together, but it was unusually silent compared to other times, neither of you wanted to talk.

You were too absorbed in your thoughts as you pulled open the oven door to take the baking tray out, completely forgetting to use the mittens. Thankfully Ayn noticed it and quickly pulled you towards him, a little too rough for your liking as he hurriedly checked your fingers to make sure you didn’t burn yourself. “How can you be so careless? You should’ve worn the mittens or asked me to take it out for you. You could’ve burned yourself.” He scolds you, though his words were coming from a place of concern, his tone sounded a little too harsh. You did not dare to meet his eyes, keeping them trained on both of your hands as you willed yourself not to cry. Why are you crying over this? It is weak to be tearing up just because of something so trivial. Useless. Useless. Useless.

Ayn takes notice of your silence, letting out a sigh as he tilts your chin upwards such that your focus is now on him. He pursed his lips at the sight of your watery eyes, feeling guilty. “I-I’m sorry I was too harsh, it’s just that-“ He stuttered, trying to explain himself but was interrupted by you breaking down and burying your face into his chest, taking him by surprise. You closed your eyes as you sobbed, trying to control them as best as you could but it just kept coming. Days of stress and pent up emotions start flooding out as you hold him tightly. It was the first time Ayn had ever seen you cry, and neither does he know the reason why, he could only awkwardly pat you on the head while hugging you close to him. “It’s okay, I-I’m sorry.” He apologised, his voice much softer now. You quickly shake your head at his words, it was never his fault to begin with. “N-no it’s okay. It’s just, I feel so stressed with school, with life, with literally everything! I-I don’t know what to do. I want to run away from all these but I know I can’t, I just-“

“It’s okay, I’m here now. You will do just fine, I’m sure of it. Just a few months more until winter break. You have done a good job so far and I am proud of you. Please, remember that I will always be here for you.”

———————————————————

author’s note: if you can’t tell, i lost motivation half way 🥲 i’m so sorry. also requests will take kinda slow because i am trying to take some time to work on my other projects as well

#༊*·˚works #for all time #lovebrush chronicles #aiyin #ayn x reader #lovebrush chronicles x reader #aiyin x reader #ayn #ayn alwyn #i cant take his last name seriously #idk #for all time x reader

[ghoulette-knell]

since you’re asking for requests can you do a zephyr and ifrit sick fic

Oh 100% Anon!!! Thank you so much for the request ❤️❤️✨🫶

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Quarantined

Ifrit x Zephyr

Ifrit comes down with a nasty case of the stomach bug, and Zephyr offers to help him out in any way he can!

✨ SFW ✨

TW: Mentions of sickness, specifically vomit (I have Emetophobia which is why I felt it was important to mention). Also, we love a soft Zephyr fic??? Yes, yes we do.

Please don’t read if the stomach bug is triggering to you! I know how bad emetophobia panic attacks are, so please don’t put yourself at risk for a fluffy oneshot ❤️

Word Count: 1,541

Ifrit groaned in pain. This was the first time he had had a stomach bug since he was summoned by the Satanic ministry to be a Ghoul in the band Ghost. He had caught it from Omega… the bastard. The poor fire-Ghoul wasn’t used to being out for the count, so this was incredibly difficult for him.

Thankfully though, there was one Ghoul willing to help out, and that was Zephyr. The air-Ghoul knew one of Ifrit’s biggest pet peeves in the world was not being productive, and to top it all off, being ill didn’t help. So, the pianist was slowly walking down the halls towards Ifrit’s quarters.

Zephyr didn’t even bother to knock before entering the younger Ghoul’s room. He knew Ifrit well— the door would be unlocked for sure. The air-Ghoul entered the room cautiously. He spotted a stationary lump in the middle of the bed and sighed sadly.

“How are you feeling, Ifrit?” he questioned while slowly shutting the door behind him as he walked in, “I brought some water, peppermint tea, and honey. Mist told me honey helps with unsettled stomachs and can make you puke a little less. It won’t completely heal you, but it’ll help.”

Typical Zephyr. He was always trying to go above and beyond for his friends, especially with Ifrit. He’s always looked up to the fire-Ghoul despite him being younger than Zephyr, and to see him like this was physically painful. The Ghoul was extremely talented, and not to mention, he was a good friend.

Ifrit responded with a pitiful groan as he rolled over to face Zephyr.

“Thanks. I have never felt so sick in my life. I am… thankful you decided to come and check on me, but I promise I’m fine.”

Zephyr’s tail wagged slightly with the compliment, a small smile appearing on his lips from underneath his mask, “You don’t need to thank me, Ifrit. I’m more than happy to help you out. You’re my friend, and I know you’d do the same for me.”

Ifrit looked terrible though, which made the smile slowly slip from Zephyr’s face. It was a rare occurrence to see any of the ministry’s Ghouls without their masks, which was likely the result of the fire-Ghoul’s frequent vomiting.

Ifrit’s face pale, his eyes were dilated from the sheer discomfort he was feeling, and he was sweating. The Ghoul likely had a fever.

Without another word, Zephyr unscrewed the cap of one of the water bottles he had brought with him, and walked over to the disheveled bed; placing the opening of the bottle to Ifrit’s lips. The Ghoul didn’t immediately take the offer of water; his eyes fluttering shut due to exhaustion.

“Ifrit, buddy. You’ve gotta drink something. You’ll dehydrate if you don’t,” Zephyr cooed while stroking the younger Ghoul’s face, “Come on. Just one sip. I’m gonna throw some tea on to boil too. All of this will make you feel so much better.”

“Zephyr… I’m tired,” the poor man whispered while sleepily wiping the sweat from his brow.

Zephyr sighed in annoyance, “Dude, I will force feed you this damn water. Make it easier on both of us. I’m not asking you to drink the whole bottle— you just need a few sips, okay? And trust me, puking this water up will feel great compared to dry heaving.”

That seemed to get Ifrit’s attention.

The younger Ghoul’s tired eyes slowly opened, and he took a few small sips of water. He groaned in discomfort as the liquid slid down his raw throat. Without another word, Ifrit’s eyes closed, and he rolled on his side, facing away from Zephyr.

The air-Ghoul quickly capped the bottle and carefully placed it on Ifrit’s bedside table.

“I’m gonna make you some tea. The peppermint is scientifically-proven to help nausea and settle upset stomachs. The honey helps sooth intestinal distress, which actually might help you stop vomiting quicker!”

Zephyr loved to learn little things like that. He gained almost paternal instincts when it came to the rest of the Nameless Ghouls, so when someone got sick or something along those lines, he and Mist would discuss ways to help. He and Mist were like the mother and father of the Ghouls… not counting Papa Terzo, of course.

Ifrit didn’t respond to Zephyr’s promise of tea. Zephyr didn’t mind though. The air-Ghoul hummed quietly to himself as he shuffled through Ifrit’s cabinets, finally locating an old fashioned tea kettle.

The air-Ghoul placed the kettle on the stove and turned it on. He continued to hum to himself as he added water to the kettle. Zephyr placed the peppermint tea bags and honey to the side, which he would add to Ifrit’s mug once the water was done boiling.

However, before Zephyr could even try to sit and relax while he waited, Ifrit shot up into a sitting position, his eyes wide. His throat was frantically swallowing mouthfuls of saliva.

“You okay, buddy?” Zephyr asked, his tail twitching in apprehension over Ifrit’s movements. Then it hit him…

Without hesitation, once Zephyr knew what was about to occur, leapt from his position in the kitchen, and raced over to Ifrit’s bedside. He expertly grabbed the wastebasket from the corner of the room, and placed it right in front of the fire-Ghoul’s face.

Just in time, too.

“You’re okay, sweet boy,” Zephyr whispered as Ifrit loudly expelled his stomach contents into the can; tears streaming down the fire-Ghoul’s cheeks as he tried to gasp for air, “Just let it out, Ifrit. You’re okay.”

The care for his fellow Ghoul overshadowed Zephyr’s instincts, telling him to back away and get as far from the vomit as possible. His left hand held the bucket for Ifrit, and his right rubbed reassuring circles on the sick Ghoul’s back.

“There, there, Ifrit,” Zephyr cooed as Ifrit began to collect himself after his sickness, “You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay?”

Zephyr placed the wastebasket back on the floor and fetched a handkerchief from his pocket; carefully dabbing away the sick from Ifrit’s quivering lips, “You’re okay, sweet boy.”

“I don’t feel okay,” Ifrit muttered while letting Zephyr continue dabbing up the mess, “And I’m worried I’ll make you sick. I don’t want anyone else to have to deal with this.”

The air-Ghoul sighed and rubbed Ifrit’s shoulders reassuringly, shushing his concerns, “If I get it, I get it. It is what it is. It’s going to get the whole ministry— it happens all the time.”

“You’re taking this whole thing very well,” Ifrit replied while grabbing the water bottle off the bedside table and taking a small sip, “I would be freaking out if I was in your shoes.”

Zephyr chuckled and placed a small kiss through his silver mask on Ifrit’s forehead. That was a bold move considering he hadn’t ever confronted Ifrit on the fact that he had a little crush, but Zephyr figured it would be okay.

He was right. Ifrit didn’t even bat an eye as Zephyr placed the mouth of his mask against his exposed forehead. He actually blushed, which was so out of character for the fire-Ghoul.

Zephyr quickly got the peppermint tea with honey together for Ifrit. The sick Ghoul just sat patiently and waited; his eyes saggy and sleepy.

The air-Ghoul brought the mug of hot tea over. He blew slightly on the hot water to try and cool it, and once it was a safe temperature, Zephyr helped Ifrit take a few sips.

“This is actually helping my throat ache,” Ifrit observed while licking his lips, which signified he even liked the taste of the beverage, “Thanks, Zeph.”

Zephyr then crawled into bed beside Ifrit and urged him to lay on the air-Ghoul’s chest. Without hesitation, Ifrit placed his mug of peppermint tea on the nightstand with his water bottle, and snuggled into Zephyr’s side.

“Thank you,” Ifrit whispered while bundling himself into Zephyr’s side along with his heavy, warm blankets, “You’ve actually managed to make me feel better.”

Zephyr couldn’t help but blush underneath his mask. His tail even swayed slightly from happiness, “Hey, that’s my job. You don’t need to thank me.”

Ifrit’s ears perked slightly, and he actually mustered out a chuckle. Zephyr was about to ask what was so funny when the fire-Ghoul extended his hands and wrapped them around Zephyr’s mask.

The fire-Ghoul removed Zephyr’s mask, “Since you said you don’t mind getting sick…”

Without hesitation, Ifrit pressed his lips softly against Zephyr’s; the air-Ghoul blushing enough to make him look like a tomato.

Zephyr’s arms wrapped lovingly around Ifrit’s body; pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. After a few moments, the two Ghouls pulled away; happiness and adoration in each of their eyes.

“Yeah, that’s definitely worth getting sick over. At least I brought a lot of peppermint tea and honey with me,” Zephyr chuckled like a love-sick teenager, and pulled Ifrit back in for another kiss.

#fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #ghost #ghost band #ifrit #ifrit ghoul #zephyr #zephyr ghoul #ifrit x zephyr #nameless ghouls #nameless #ghoul #mask #fluff #fluff fanfic #fluff fic #ghost bc #zephyr x ifrit

[delcakoo]

the keys to my heart ₊˚♪⊹ y.jw

requested for my 1k event!

SUMMARY ! with a big recital coming up, you’re beginning to doubt your abilities and passion for the instrument you love. luckily, your favorite dimpled boy is almost home and ready to help in all the ways he knows how to.

PAIRING ! jungwon x pianist!fem!reader

WC ! 1.5k

GENRE ! est. relationship, fluff n’ comfort

WARNINGS ! none. just playing the piano in jungwon’s lap while he sings polaroid love in your ear (i’m crying)

a/n: thank you again for the req dear, this def isn’t my best work but i hope it’s alright T-T for all my instrument players out there, you have such a beautiful gift <3 stay strong!

tick. tick. tick. the never ending metronome placed atop your piano was beginning to get on your very last nerve. although, you were sure any other person would go just as insane after hearing the repetitive clicking for a wonderful four hours straight.

now, it wasn’t your will that drove you to sit in front of the instrument for this long— definitely not. it was all due to the big recital being held next week, in which you’d be performing in front of hundreds of other music majors and professionals who would be giving you a score all based on how you played one, singular song.

just the thought of playing in front of so many people while also being scored made your fingers tremble, but it wasn’t like you had a choice in this. it was your decision to become a music major, and while it was usually a decent experience, there were countless struggles and downsides not just physically, but mentally as well.

through the reflection of your piano, you can barely make out your dishevelled appearance. you reach up from the piano stool to put the metronome’s voice to an end with a frustrated sigh, running your fingers through your hair in a desperate attempt to look even half sane.

maybe i’ve taken the wrong path. why did i think being a music major would get me anywhere when my heart starts racing at even the thought of performing in front of others? it’s been four hours, yet i still haven’t perfected this song from start to finish.

“geez, i’m pathetic.” you grit your teeth, resting your elbows down on the piano keys and ignoring the mocking sound of the instrument being strung together from the contact.

for a while, you just stay like that, continuing to think negatively before you could make any effort to stop yourself. a few tears try to fall along the way, but you stubbornly wipe them off before they get the chance to escape.

you don’t know how long it’s been, but eventually the sound of a key carefully jingling at the front door makes you lift your head. a familiar boy with raven hair tiptoes through the doorway, silently kicking off his shoes and unzipping his black woolly coat. you recognise the dimple pressed into his cheek anywhere, a small smile creeping up your face just from watching your boyfriend unwind after a long night of dance practise.

it was so calming, so peaceful to see jungwon from this point of view. despite just finishing up hours of exhausting choreography, he looked ethereal with a few curly bangs stuck to his forehead, a hint of under eye bags only making his boba eyes look larger.

right as jungwon finishes hanging up his jacket by the door, your elbow subconsciously slides over to the next untouched key of the piano, making an alarmingly loud note spring from the instrument. you flinch in surprise, similar to your boyfriend who had practically jumped in the air like a cat at the sound.

his bangs fly from his face due to how fast he looks to your direction, reaching a hand up to his chest in relief once he sees your figure at the piano. “wah, that was like a horror movie,” jungwon breathes, giggling faintly, “jagiya, what are you doing there? it’s past midnight.”

your smile fades slightly at the reminder of what you’ve been doing for the past four hours, refusing to meet the boy’s eyes as he trudged over to you.

even with his smiley exterior, it’s easy to tell how tired jungwon is; his body screams for a break in the way his posture sludges, and how his feet drag against the floor wearily. nonetheless, he shows his best self for you, cheerfully nudging you over to make room for himself on the stool.

you speak up nervously, avoiding the question just as your boyfriend pulls you up and into his lap. “won, we should go sleep. you need to rest.”

“oh, do i now?” jungwon fires back, resting his chin on your shoulder to inspect the sheet of music on the instrument’s shelf. “but you don’t, miss piano player at nearly one in the morning?”

you lick your lips, leaning your head to rest on top of his. jungwon had so much on his plate at every point of the day. being the leader of his group was fatiguing to say the least, and placing your stress onto him made you feel sick with guilt every time.

yet, not one day went by where he didn’t reassure you that he didn’t mind — that if anything, he wanted to know everything you were worried about, no matter how deep or upsetting it may be.

silently, the boy inspects your face and body language, rubbing the sides of your waist with utter care and gentleness. “hey,” he murmurs. you hum in response, busy staring off at the ceiling with a slight pout. “y/n, talk to me. why are you not in bed?”

you gulp, adjusting your position in his lap. eventually, you knew he’d find a way to persuade you into telling him, you might as well be honest. “i was practising for my recital.”

jungwon pauses his rubbing on your sides, brows furrowing. “isn’t that next week?” you simply nod, making his face drop further. “then you have lots of time, jagi. and if you don’t get enough sleep, you’re never going to be able to learn it properly.”

at that, you chew your lip anxiously. “i know, i know- it’s just..” you look at the boy for a split second, watching him nod in gesture for you to continue. “i’m.. i’m so scared. you know how i get playing in front of others— i freak out, and this time it’s a big performance y’know? i-i just wanna do good.”

jungwon quickly scoops up your hand in his own, rubbing your knuckles with a kiss to your cheek. “you do know that i’m gonna be there cheering you on right? i already got front row tickets. oh and — i tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t give it up so — the rest of the members are coming too.” you smile brightly at the thought of your boyfriend and his bandmates all coming to watch you, giggling quietly.

when jungwon notices your laughter, he grins proudly before continuing. “there’s no need to be scared jagi, i know you’re going to do amazing with how hard you’re always working. just try to imagine how you practise in front of me here at home. focus only on the keys in front of you, pretend it’s just us two in that recital room.”

at his comforting advice, you nod. you may not be the best at showing your appreciation, but hopefully jungwon gets the message from the way you gently turn over to push your lips to his.

he hums in approval, pleasantly hugging you closer and pushing his cheek further into the nook your palm. the angle is a bit uncomfortable, but neither of you seem to mind at all, enjoying the calming sounds of each others exhales.

“thank you, love,” you whisper once he pulls away, pressing your finger into the dip of his dimple with a smile. his eyes turn into happy crescents at your words, leaning in for another peck.

before he can say another word, jungwon quirks a brow as you abruptly flip around so your back is to his chest, suddenly placing your fingers onto the piano keys. “babe,” he gulps, “i love hearing you play, i really do, but it’s-“

“shush, i forgot to show you something. i learned another song while taking a break from practise,” you inform, a grin forming as you begin playing the first few chords.

your boyfriend catches on to the song immediately, gasping as you continue moving your fingers up and down the instrument with passion. “you learned our song!?” he exclaims excitedly, the thought of going to bed completely forgotten. you glance back to meet his love struck gaze, laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“yup, the chords weren’t very hard.” the both of you seem to have forgotten what time it is, much too busy having a mini concert for yourselves.

jungwon quickly began singing along while you played, his angelic voice blessing your ears from behind. “it’s like a polaroid love, 사랑 촌스런 그 감정, 근데 내 가슴이 뛰어 왜 나 이래 나~”

by the end of the night, you found yourself beaming in jungwon’s arms. his eyes sparkled beautifully while he sang right by your ear, squeezing your waist tighter as you conducted your instrument.

suddenly, the thought of your upcoming recital didn’t seem bad anymore, for as long as you had jungwon cheering you on, you were sure you could sit at the piano for the rest of your life.

if you enjoyed, reblogging and commenting is always very appreciated!

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @lov3niki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk

#delcakoo #delcakoo 1k event 🎙 #delcakoo requests #enhypen fics #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon drabble #jungwon x reader #jungwon fics #jungwon drabbles #jungwon imagine #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you #yang jungwon scenarios #yang jungwon fics #yang jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon imagines #yang jungwon drabbles #jungwon fic #jungwon fluff #yang jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon imagine #enha #enhypen drabbles #enhypen blurbs

[existslikepristin]

I was waiting for my car to get fixed. They told me it would take an hour. I wrote something in an hour. This is what I wrote. (Plus the last sentence when I got home to sort of close the story out.)

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, CLC, Seunghee, male reader insert, lazy “morning” sex

~~~~~

Her hand slips up and down your shaft. Absolute zero… effort. Leave the cold puns to Winter, because Seunghee is doing things the lazy way.

You do your absolute best not to squirm away. “Seunghee… not that I don’t like this, but I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”

“That ain’t the plan.” Seunghee’s sensual voice oozed over your shoulder like honey. “You can cum on me when we get up, but just let me enjoy this, yeah?”

You’re not exactly going to tell her no. Her soft body is pressed into your back, just as naked as you (which is one hundred percent naked, for reference). She doesn’t kiss you, stroke you, rub against you, nothing. The two of you might as well still be asleep. Her presence is warm, not hot. Seunghee wouldn’t like that. She’d be bursting out from beneath the blanket if it were just a few degrees higher.

Her fingers play over your cock like she’s mocking a pianist. Mocking your penis? No, she isn’t even trying to tease. You’d be struggling if she was.

“Why are you always hard, anyway? Isn’t that bad for your health?”

“I… don’t think so?”

“What are those erection drugs on about then? Seek a doctor if it lasts more than four hours and all.”

“Couldn’t tell you. I’ve gone for days before.”

If Seunghee were more awake and/or perhaps literally anyone else (or at least any of her other members), she’d remind you that you lasted for multiple hours with Seungyeon and Yeeun before, but were eventually too exhausted to continue. If she was Eunbin, she’d tell you that you had dick dysfunction. 

But tired Seunghee being tired Seunghee, she just muttered, “Cool,” took a deep breath, sighed it out against the back of your neck, drooped a little closer, and softly pressed your dick into her palm with her thumb. It’s a curious deviation from the ridicule you usually get in this dorm.

You match her pace, reaching back and letting your hand fall where it may in her hip region with minimal guidance. Your fingers touch down on her butt, and you give it a lazy squeeze. This plush ass gets shoved in your face every time you visit. Thank fuck. If there’s any ass to have pushed up against your face, it’s hers… Well, a lot of her members have great butts. You wonder if they were all inspired by their former leader.

“What’re you dreaming about?” Seunghee mumbles.

“I’m still awake.”

“Then what are you fantasizing about? Your dick just got harder.”

“You and your members’ asses.”

There’s a long, dead silent pause. You’d be worried if Seunghee wasn’t still casually playing with your cock.

“Sorn and I will give you a double butt job if you buy me coffee.”

Now that’s one hell of an outcome. “Deal. Won’t Sorn be upset if she doesn’t get anything out of it though?”

“Better buy her one too then.”

“I can do that. You’re going to have to let me go.”

“Bitch… It’s four in the morning.”

You stare into the pitch black of Seunghee’s room. It’s too easy to lose track of time in here with how dark she keeps it. When did you wake up? Why did you wake up? It’s no wonder Seunghee isn’t taking you to pound town right now.

Guess you’ll have to get back to sleep somehow, or be very, very patient.

#seunghee #clc #kpop smut #male reader insert

[arogustus]

Splatband Analysis - Hightide Era

So I was eating breakfast the other day when I found on the back of my milk carton this picture about a band being missing? Now, I think they’re exaggerating a bit on the “M.I.A.” thing. Sure, they haven’t been mentioned since Splatoon 2, where they got to cameo in the White Day artwork and are involved in the backstory for Ink Theory, but you know who else hasn’t been mentioned since Splatoon 2? SashiMori. And I don’t see anyone making a big deal about that (other than me, Nintendo, please), but I digress. Let’s talk about these losers.

The Band

Hightide Era is an indie band that developed a strong enough fanbase to get their music into the Turf War scene. The band started life with Taka performing on the street, before later being joined by Kuze, and then Nishida, in that order. One of the first things we learned is the meaning of the band's name, which refers to both the nature of the band's sound, brimming and full… and also the ecological realities of the world. Seems the band has environmental concerns they wanna draw attention to, enough to make it a part of their name. 

Taka

The band's pianist and vocalist, and the overall center of attention of the band, which is exactly what they want. They’re an incredibly talented musician, having practiced piano since the age of Four, and attended the same prestigious academy that Karen did, having been her senior while she was attending. After that, though, they grew tired of all this academic music nonsense and took to the streets to perform, which is where they met Kuze and Nishida. 

The most obvious thing to know about Taka, outright told to us in their own description, is that Taka is a shallow poser. Their main motivation for making music isn’t for any artistic merit, but just because it gets them attention and adoration. Which, considering they’ve been at it since the age of Four, is pretty concerning. Also very superficial beneath the surface. It’s an Ichiya situation, with a lot of surface level charisma concealing a superficial personality. It must be pretty effective too considering they have a dedicated fan in Karen. That desire for attention also keeps them from adding a bassist to the band, it draws attention away from the low notes they hit. What an ass.

White Day art time, we see our stinker leaning back on their chair, clearly spectating the epic battle between Tangle and Finn like a weirdo. They must get a lot of enjoyment out of seeing chaos going on around them. Or maybe they’re trying to peek at Finn? In which case they probably didn’t get to stay as a spectator for long. 

Kuze

Kuze is the drummer and a stone fish. He plays on cheap drums because it provides a very messy but powerful sound that compliments the other members trying to look cool. He probably just likes the way the drum sounds and thinks it looks cool. He’s also a fashion designer, he made the uniforms the band wears. Probably has a lot of talents in that area, too. 

He’s the third and final member of Underpass Bass Drum, so he’s an active turf player. It’d be cool if one day we got an idea as to what their weapon preferences are. Maybe they even wear a uniform too, what with him being a part of the team? Ah, I’m speculating.

White Day has him sitting with Paul and Jawn. He’s not playing the game, so he’s probably just hanging with them and watching, perhaps waiting for his turn. But there’s one thing you can see him do, and that’s giving Taka the side-eye. It gives the vibe that he knows about Taka and their shenanigans and doesn’t tolerate them too much. Or he’s just keeping an eye on them in case Finn notices and takes it as a challenge. 

Nishida

Nishida is a herring and a guitarist. They don’t like being in the spotlight, despite the stereotype revolving around guitarists. May or may not have something to do with the fact they are the youngest of 247 siblings. Like, yeah, that’s a huge ratio of sibling teasing, bullying and fawning, especially since they’re the youngest. Still, they don’t hate attention, they’ve apparently been featured in a serialized magazine that talks about their guitar skills. And apparently people they’re trying to “put on airs” (it means they act like they’re better than others, to be snobbish), when really they don’t do that… most of the time. Is it trying to say that they’re only occasionally snobbish and act egotistical?

In the White Day artwork, they are shown engaged in conversation with Taichi in the back of the bar. They’re more social than they appear, at least, but we may never know what the nature of their conversation is. #Nishida x Taichi Romance. They also brought their guitar for some reason, despite absolutely no one else bringing anything. Wonder what that’s about.

—

And that’s Hightide Era. I never cared about them until today, but I’m glad to say I’ve gained an appreciation for them as of this analysis. There’s something to love about everyone, even if some of them could probably use a little less attention (*cought* Taka *cough*).

We are down two bands. The Chips that Chirp, the neurodivergence squad Chirpy Chips, and everyone’s favorite band of fish freaks ω-3. I’ll go with the Chips first, and then finish with the Salmons. This is fun.

#splatoon #splatbands #splatband analysis #hightide era #taka #kuze #nishida #my work #i see the appeal of these guys #they're all hot losers #it all makes sense now

[la-taegi]

[Yoonmin] Winters Song and Dance

Jimin, the dancer, and Yoongi, the pianist both practice late into the night. One particularly hard night, Jimin sneaks into Yoongi's favorite place to practice at 2 AM to listen to him play originally posted on AO3

Tags: Fluff, Comfort, I love them.

The auditorium was dark, filled with warm air. Hundreds of red velour seats with no one sitting in them. It was empty except for the dust particles that Yoongi could see floating around in the soft yellow light that shone over the stage. This was Yoongis favorite spot to play. He often would sneak into this auditorium through the windows that were cracked open due to the lack of ventilation. He sat comfortably at the piano whenever his thoughts carried him to uncomfortable memories, or dark places. Stress seemed to relieve itself from his shoulders as he pressed into the keys. His eyes closed as he felt the heat of the stage lights on his skin, which would usually bother him except for the fact that snow was piling on the windowsill he climbed through. Some might say it was a bit stuffy, but Yoongi found it to be perfect.

He was so entranced in the melody that played from his fingers that he didn’t notice the creaking window being slid open, nor the figure that came in through it. Cheeks and nose red from the bitter cold outside, Park Jimin tried to be as quiet as possible as not to disturb Yoongis practice. His limbs were aching from dancing into the wee hours of the night. He didn't even take off his leotard. He felt so tired. Feeling the burn in his calves, Jimin wonders if he went too hard this time. He had already tried texting Yoongi, but after no reply he knew he would be here, in this auditorium. Yoongi hadn’t noticed him yet, it was perfect. Jimin sat in one of the chairs hidden in the shadows to listen to him play for a while.

It was a couple of minutes. Yoongi swayed his body back and forth, hunched slightly with his eyes closed as his hands drifted across the keys. Jimin felt so at peace. He loved listening to him play, but hearing him play when he thought no one else was listening was a completely different experience. He watched as Yoongi played a few more measures, his eyes opening halfway in a state of total relaxation and contentment. Jimin saw a lazy smile tug at the corners of Yoongis mouth as the song wrapped up. Oh. So he knew Jimin was there the whole time didn’t he…

“Enjoy the show?” Yoongis voice echoed through the theatre, amused but still soft. “How’d you know I was here?”

Jimin stood up, walking onto the wooden stage ignoring the ache running through his muscles, “I tried to text you hyung~.” He pouts “I knew you’d be here after you didn’t reply or at least read my message within 10 minutes.”

Yoongi laughs a little, turning his body to face the dancer. “Were you hungry?” He asks. Usually, Yoongi would be furious with anyone trying to interrupt his private time with his piano, but this was Jimin and he could never be mad at him when he has such a cute pout on his face and rosy cheeks from the cold.

“No hyung, just was tired and wanted to see you” Jimin mumbles, shifting his weight to one side to avoid hurting his calf anymore than he already did today. Yoongi stares at him for a moment, then his eyes soften and he pats the piano seat next to him, “Sit” he says quietly.

Jimin sits down next to Yoongi, both still facing away from the piano. Yoongi places a hand on Jimins thigh out of habit, and was shocked when he heard Jimin whine in pain. “Jiminie-” his eyes widened as Jimins squeezed shut. Damn, that was the leg that was hurting. “Sorry, just…” Jimin starts, “I’ve been practicing since 10 am today, since I had the day off.” He twiddles his thumbs, staring down at them as he explains. He knows Yoongi is looking at him with worry and doesnt want to see.

Yoongi removes his hand from Jimins leg and instead gently tllts Jimins head up so that he faces him. “You worked hard Jimin-ah. I’m worried about this, but I’m glad you came to see me.” His eyes were serious and warm at the same time. He leans forward to press a soft kiss on Jimins forehead. “Stay still for a minute” He whispers.

Yoongi gets onto the ground and Jimin is confused. A hand is placed back on Jimins leg and gently squeezes a few times as it makes it's way down to his ankle. “Yeah, your leg’s all tense Jimin-ah..” Yoongi frowns. “Let hyung help.”

Yoongi massages the tight muscles of Jimins calves, his hands working into the knots. “Hyung.. You dont have to..” Jimin pouts as he feels relief flooding his body. “Thats enough of that,” Yoongi chuckles “Taking care of you also makes me feel better, so just look at it as a selfish act.”

So there they were, on the stage, Yoongis magic hands taking the pain away from Jimins muscles. Nothing but silence and the occasional breeze that comes in through the open window. When Yoongi is done, he sits back next to Jimin, who yawns and smiles “Thank you hyung. It feels much better.” He blushes as Yoongi ruffles his hair and faces the piano. While staring at the keys, Yoongi pats his shoulder, asking Jimin to rest on it.

It took a second for Jimin to register the red flushing Yoongis cheeks. It’s enough to make Jimin smile widely and graciously accept his offer. Yoongis lips jut out in an embarrassed pout, which only make Jimin giggle and hug the older boy.

Yoongis hands land on the piano keys gracefully, and he starts to play another song. This one was another soft melody, like the one he played before. This time, it was for Jimin. “Rest. Hyung will wake you when we leave” He whispers, leaning his head against Jimins. He can feel the soft hair brushing his cheek as he glides his hands across the grand piano. Jimin nods and hums something, tightening his arms around Yoongis's waist until the music carries him to sleep.

#drabble #yoonmin #yoonmin fanfic #yoonmin fluff #min yoongi #suga #agust d #suga bts #min suga #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x jimin #bts fanfic #bts army #fluff #bts fluff #bts comfort #comfort fic #park jimin #jimin bts #bts jimin #face jimin #pjm #myg #requests open #taking requests #soft fic #they are sleepy #bts #bangtan #bts suga

[mateopalacioworld]

I begin to understand my feelings even more.

I open my eyes to a brand new night, awaiting a brand new day.

even when, everything begins to feel like the darkness has consumed me.

I feel like only the light can touch me and even burn me.

Like a piece of paper waiting to be lit by match. My eyes shake and my fingers feel numb.

I missed the keyboard, the ways the keys sounds and make that click clack like stripper heels on the dance-floor.

Its my favorite sounds, like a rhythm like a breath. It envelopes me throughout the night.

The humming of the disco sound-waves penetrate my body and my skin. I feel brand new.

What else is there to say, I miss the night time I miss my life, I miss me. I miss Mateo.

I miss being the person I used to be, surely but surely I will come back to me.

I know I will no matter what, even if I feel like those around me have hurt me like they stabbed me with there sharpest dagger.

This is not poetry, this more like self deprecating sonnets and love notes to myself.

Who else can tell me how much I miss me. My life, my smile, my sparkle.

I said who cares, who cares about me?

But then again I remember that life is but one. The one I currently have.

I cherish and appreciate life, there is nothing more valuable than living a happy life, slowly but surely I will have it

One way or the other, its what I deserve.

You know I’m tired of living behind anybody else’s shadows or their demons when Im still slaying mines.

What is there to say, my dearest diary. You still are the only one who gets me.

I don’t think I can process thoughts if I were writing down these thoughts on a piece of paper.

My handwriting sucks and I don’t even have an English major. I wanna type on this keyboard till my fingers bleed

Like a pianist learning a brand new symphony. Like Mozart or like the Queen earring her first golden tassel.

Im silly, I romantic beauty and everything that’s emphermal or ethereal. I wanna feel ethereal forever.

Like love, I think I’m in love It makes my stomach have the butterflies but then again they feel like moths in my tiny stomach.

It still whirls like laundry or like a blender filled with fruit. Nothing makes sense but that’s what keeps things fresh and exciting.

As much as I crave piece I believe that I still want to ruminate in my chaos, its what keeps me feeling alive and real.

Like the flesh on my skin and the bones and goosebumps in a cold winter morning.

Battle Hymns, strike again. God asks me one day in a dream to look at the Sun and I fell in love with it forever.

Like the universe it makes me feel connected to everything thats alive from the ugliest fruit to the most beautiful flower.

Flowers and bumblebees dance together like human vampires. They are the polar opposites of our beauty.

Polar opposites is what this is all about, duality, my duality.

My feminine divine and my masculine divine dance together in the most beautiful ballad

We dance in an intoxicating bubble of love and freedom. I miss that.

My eyes feel blurry and I hope this pill kicks in, I want to have deep slumber that I can wake up to a clear new day.

Sleep and rest is what my little brain needs, It just wants to rest. I wish I can just put it next to me and charge it like a brand new iPhone 15.

Who needs phones when you have a diary. I missed typing, Im starting to feel like myself. One drawing, one diary entry, one kiss and a killer new outfit.

#poetry #sad poetry #self depricating #self deprecating poetry #accepted #self love #deep thoughts #spilled thoughts #dear diary #sad thoughts #sad poem #sad quotes #original poem #poems and poetry #short poem #poems on tumblr #love poem #my poem #poemas #short story #storytime #story

[dr-akeda-amuesments]

“Me? I’m Chizuru Kuse. The Ultimate Therapist. Without me, countless people wouldn’t deem their lives worth living. I’m sort of a messiah.”

Meet Chizuru Kuse, The Ultimate Therapist.

Age: 20

Pronouns: He/Him

Nationality: Japanese

Likes: Earl Grey Tea, Simplicity, 80s Fashion

Dislikes: Syringes, Affection, Running

Birthday: April 5th

Appearance: Chizuru is almost unhealthily thin, standing at 5 ’7”. He has his light brown hair carefully swept into a tasteful hairstyle, complimenting his emerald eyes. He wears a green, skin tight turtleneck with a shiny brown belt with a silver buckle. He wears black flare pants and black business shoes. Finally, he has a gold and brown watch, an expensive one.

Backstory: Chizuru comes from a rather rich family, his mother being a famous pianist and his father being a world renowned doctor. He was surrounded by luxury and pleasure for as long as he could remember. He tired of this one day though, so he followed his father to work. He wandered into rooms and talked to patients, hearing their stories and lives. At the time, he didn’t know how influential his real, honest talk was, but the people he talked to knew. Chizuru started his career with flying colors, and hasn’t stopped since.

#chizuru kase #ultimate therapist #danganronpa #fanganronpa #fangan #danganronpa akeda amuesments #akeda amuesments

[lino-jagiyaa]

Hi Rin!!! 👋😆

I want to talk more but I'm busy practicing and filming for the selection of a piano competition (pls I regret wanting to participate but it's too late now🥲)

Could I request a drabble with the soft prompt dialogue #1:

Where y/n is a pianist, who's busy/stressed and thinks they're not good enough (me rn but the thing is I'm actually not good enough).

So y/n and Seungmin are both busy with schedules (idol!Seungmin) and they're in two different countries. But Seungmin saves the day by video calling with y/n.

Feeding my inner simp by procrastinating rn🫠

-Lyna🥸

hi hi! omg i love thisss | as a fellow seungmin simp i understandddd

also, i hope the competition goes well <3

chords | seungmin drabble

prompt: “i just wanted to remind you that you're doing a great job, and to keep up the hard work! i know that it can sometimes be a bit difficult but i promise your dedication and efforts will pay off.”

genre: fluff, angst(?)

pairing: idol!seungmin x pianist!gn reader

warnings: swearing, frustration, crying

word count: 627

note: i changed the prompt just a little bit since it sounds a bit off in this scenario but i hope it’s still good!

the week was just starting but it was already so tiring. you had so many rehearsals lined up and filming to do. all to prepare you for an upcoming competition.

you had thought that by joining, you could easily distract yourself from having to spend another long few weeks away from your boyfriend seungmin who was now at the beginning of his upcoming tour.

but instead of a good distraction, you were met with headaches and not to mention the massive load of coursework and the additional homework your professors decided to drop the past two weeks.

it was all becoming too much.

𖤐𖤐𖤐

just as you were going over some sheet music, attempting to get something done after spending the past 30 minutes wanting to cry your eyes out, your phone lights up with your boyfriend's contact.

he was on break from practice so he thought it'd be the perfect time to call. not knowing you were seconds away from a breakdown.

him having the perfect timing.

you immediately answer. after fixing yourself up a bit, of course.

when his face pops up on the screen you can't help but smile.

seungmin: hey! i missed you.

you: i missed you too, seung. this month is taking forever to pass.

seungmin: i knoww. but don't worry, i'll have a long break after i come back.

you: good. i hate being apart for this long.

seungmin: me too. anyways, what've you been up to lately?

you: i actually joined a piano competition...

seungmin: you don't seem too happy, why's that?

you: it's been really stressful. like i feel like i'm not doing well and like there was no point in joining. and on top of that, I have a shit ton of homework to finish by the end of the week.

seungmin: well, baby why don't you just drop out? or is there something you're not telling me?

before you could answer him, you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. seungmin noticed immediately, making him softly question you.

seungmin: take your time, baby. you’re okay, i’m here.

after taking a shaky deep breath and fiddling with the sleeves of your hoodie, you’re finally able to speak again.

you: .. okay to lay things out, i joined the competition to distract myself for a while since you’d be gone by then i realized i wanted to do well so you could be proud of me…

you couldn’t even look him in the eyes as you confessed. feeling embarrassed if your reasoning, putting your hands up to cover your face since it was becoming red.

seungmin admired the fact that you were doing this for him. yet he’d be proud of you whether you won or not.

he was smiling at you so wide. so entranced with you. so in love.

seungmin: well thank you, but i’ll be proud even if you don’t do well. you’re already doing a great job, love. and i know that it can sometimes be a bit difficult but i promise your dedication and efforts will pay off.”

you: seungmin…

seungmin: what? you know i’m right. whatever you do, anything you do will make me happy. so don’t worry your pretty little head about that.

you: ugh, i hate you

seungmin: i love you too. hopefully you feel better, right?

you: i do, thank you. and i love you too, seung

seungmin: i’m glad. it is getting late hear and we have sound check early tomorrow, but sleep well. i miss you.

you: okay, i miss you too. goodnight.

𖤐𖤐𖤐

after hanging up, you felt a lot better. a lot more confident in your work too. being reassured that he’s still gonna be proud of you no matter what.

his words made your heart flutter. having someone who was so full of love. it meant a lot.

taglist: @dadonbabysworld @lynanist @xhazmania

to join my taglist, fill out the form tagged in my pinned post!

#kim seungmin #skz fluff #skz angst #skz seungmin imagines #linojagiyaa #rin’s moots ˚₊·𖤐 #rin’s mailbox ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ #💌 - lyna darling! #[𖤐] answered!

[sope-and-shine]

Feelings In Major - Part 3

-> PAIRING: PIANIST!YOONGI X VIOLINIST!READER -> SFW(PG-13) // FLUFF, ANGST // S2L -> WORD COUNT: 10.8K -> SUMMARY: IN A KINGDOM WHERE MUSIC RINGS FROM THE LOWEST DUNGEON TO THE FARTHEST MOUNTAIN PEAK, IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT EVERYONE WANTS A CHANCE TO PLAY FOR THE ROYAL FAMILY. HOWEVER, ONLY ONE CAN BE CHOSEN, AND THE ROYAL MUSICIANS WERE THE BEST OF THE BEST. THE ONLY OBSTACLE THAT STANDS BETWEEN YOU AND BEING ONE OF THEM, IS YOUR COMPETITION AND YOUR STAGE FRIGHT. IT WILL TAKE A MIRACLE TO GET YOU ON THAT STAGE…OR JUST A GRUMPY PIANO PLAYER. -> WARNING(S): FEM READER, MILD LANGUAGE, MILD VIOLENCE, IRRATIONAL MEN, READER HAS IMPLIED THOUGHTS OF SA TOWARDS YOONGI’S INTENTIONS AT FIRST(YOONGI IS A GOOD GUY - THE BEST GUY - NO WORRIES, NOTHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS), SELF DOUBT, YOUR DAD IS A BIT OF A DICK

a/n when I started this idea over a year ago, I did not anticipate actually getting to the part where I post it. I still have 6 of these to go, but I’m honestly really proud that I’ve actually done this.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Masterlist

*

*

*

Most brides when they see the white of their dress think of the new chapter in their life they’re about to begin. They think of this light washing over them that greets them into the world of marriage. They think of all the possibilities the future holds in store for them. But you don’t think of any of those things. You can only think of one thing when you see the color of your dress.

Piano keys.

You can see them laid out in front of you, playing along to a melody that has only seemed to become softer as the days go on. They’re played by long, slender fingers your hands have become so used to holding. You think of how soft they are, how they envelope your own. You think of the way they write on parchment, discarding one sheet after another. 

You think of him.

Yoongi.

The man who you’ve slowly fallen in love with.

The man you’re not marrying today.

“Alright, the guests were finally able to make it through the square. We’ll give them a few moments and then we’ll join them.” Your Father explains as he enters the room. He’s wearing his best, and he stops as soon as he sees you dressed and ready to go, “Oh, you look beautiful.”

He places a hand on each of your shoulders with a proud, adoring smile, but you don’t even recognize your reflection in the mirror. The lace gown is only just nicer than regular formal wear, something your parents splurged on for your big day. It’s collar just shows off the top of your chest, a simple, ornate necklace on display. You can see it just through the veil that’s been drawn over your front. You look exactly how a bride should look on her wedding day, but you don’t feel how a bride should. You should be beaming and jumping in excitement, but you aren’t.

Nothing about today is for you.

“Thank you.” You try your best to seem happy and content, but it’s hard when you’re only moments away from sealing the rest of your future. Your Father can see right through you.

He moves a hand to your face and moves a stray strand behind your ear, “Dear, you’re getting married. You should look happy.”

“I am happy.” You assure him, but your words are empty.

He shakes his head, “You don’t look it.”

“Well, I’d be much happier if I wasn’t being forced to marry someone.” You mumble, intending to keep it to yourself, but he heard you.

“We had a deal-” It’s not the first time he’s tried to defend his decisions to you in the past month. He’s started a million explanations this way, and you’re tired of hearing him try to win your favor! You’re tired of him casting your feelings aside! You’re tired of him acting as though he did nothing wrong at all!

“-and you broke that deal the minute you broke my violin!” You interrupt, blowing up in anger. Your Father takes a step back, surprised by your outburst. You’ve never been one to outwardly express your anger, and even when you have in the past, it’s never been this extreme. You’ve always been soft spoken and precise, saying what you needed to and then remaining neutral. But there’s only so much one person can handle, “You didn’t even give me a chance…”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, “We gave you plenty of chances. You didn’t take them.” 

“You didn’t listen!” 

“You were fooling around with a man who wasn’t your husband, like some harlot! He wasn’t even courting you!” He scolds, reminding you of the position you put yourself in. At least in his eyes, that’s the way it seemed.

“He was helping me!” You argue, a defense you’ve been pushing ever since that day they found you and Yoongi. But he hasn’t listened to you yet, and he won’t be starting now.

Your Father scoffs, “Oh, it looked like he was helping you, alright.” 

You say nothing in response. You always lose your words when it comes to him, because no argument you make will ever be good enough for him to ever listen to you. And what hurts more is that he won’t even take your character, one he’s watched grow since you were a baby into account for everything. He’s thrown your happiness out the window, and he’s throwing you out with it as well.

He takes your silence as a win and sighs, “I’m done talking about what’s in the past.” He reaches for the veil atop your head and pulls it over your face, “You’re getting married to Lord Kang, and then you can get over this.”

“So, my happiness means nothing to you anymore?” You ask, your numb gaze barely hidden by the curtain he’s placed between the two of you. A symbol of the wall he continues to create to push you further and further away.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. Instead, he fixes his posture, “I won’t hear any more nonsense from you.” He takes your arm in his and pulls you to his side, holding tightly to your arm as if he’s afraid you’ll run away at any given moment, “Now, I better see a smile on your face when we make it to the church.”

“Whatever you say, Father.” You answer in a monotonous tone, casting your head to the door and your eyes to your feet.

The way to the church should be happy. It should be exciting and leave you giddy because you’re just teeming with excitement to spend the rest of your life with someone you love! But the walk from your home to the church feels like a walk to the gallows. You feel as though once that ring is placed on your finger, you’ll have the carpet ripped out from under you. What makes it even worse is the joyous cheering from the competition. You can hear the crowd as they cheer and clap, and you listen as they welcome their next performer. You listen as the song starts, and it’s the 5th selection. It’s the piece you’d wanted to play so badly at first, but Yoonig forbid you from playing it. He said it was too easy, too safe, and too expected. He said that too many people would play it, and it didn’t matter how beautiful it was. He said that after hearing it so many times, the crowd would dull like a blade. And with every step, you come to realize just how right he was.

It’s repetitive, plain, and boring. It doesn’t give life or variety. It’s just a simple melody that everyone knows. It’s something familiar that you enjoy, but it’s nothing new. Even when someone else plays it, it’s still the same melody and adds nothing to the selection of musicians. It’s a safe option, but it’s not the best option. But it’s far too late to back out now.

For you and the performer both.

Part of you is glad that, at least if you’re being forced to do this, that you at least have your Father to hold onto. You still have him there to keep you grounded, even if you’re still furious with him for the choices that have led you both here. It’s hard holding back your tears, but they threaten you with every step you take towards your fiancé. With every step, you leave behind the life you want for a life that you can never get rid of.

“And who gives this woman away?” The priest asks when you make it to the end of the aisle.

“I do.” Your Father answers. He reaches out for Lord Kang’s hand and pulls you toward him, bringing your hands together for him to lead you the rest of the way to the altar.

“Very good. You may all be seated.” You hear everyone move to sit behind you, your Father joining them as well. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we gather here today to join these two in Holy Matrimony. Now, before we begin, if there is anyone here with reason as to why these two should not be wed, then you may speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You hold your breath, knowing that if you let it out too soon that you may be the person to object your wedding. You instead busy yourself in the silence of the room, waiting eagerly for someone to interrupt it or for the priest to make it end. Outside, you can hear the muffled cheers of the crowd dying down as the next musician begins to play. It’s one of the more exciting pieces from the competition list. Your second choice that Yoongi was a bit more understanding of, but it still didn’t please his taste. Oh, what you would give to play it now.

“If no one has any objections, then we may proceed.” The priest announces after giving everyone ample time to come forward. You let go of the breath you were holding, but it gets caught in your throat again, “Lord Kang, please repeat after me: I, Lord Kan-“ 

“STOP!” 

You turn as soon as you hear his voice, gasps leaving the crowd behind you. Jogging up the aisle, dressed in his performance clothing of the Royal Musicians with his hair combed back is Yoongi. It’s a bit messy and he’s out of breath, almost as if he ran all the way here. At his side, he carries a case. He stops just at the steps of the altar and takes a deep breath, “Stop the wedding. Please.”

The priest takes a hesitant glance between you and your betrothed and Yoongi, “Sir-“

“I object this wedding!” Yoongi interrupts, eyes so fierce with determination, he even takes you by surprise.

Lord Kang scoffs next to you, “On what grounds?” He looks Yoongi up and down as if he’s a child, looking down on him. He doesn’t seem convinced that Yoongi has any reasonable grounds for objecting. And he has good reason to be skeptical, because Yoongi has no ground to object.

Yoongi sees this and his lip quirks in a smug grin. He meets your eyes and points to you with his free hand, “On the grounds that this woman is already married to me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, knowing very well that you and Yoongi never once uttered any marriage vows to each other. You look to your parents to see their reactions, and they look just as shocked as you feel. Your Mother seems almost heartbroken, and you can’t even begin to imagine what must be going through her head. Much less, you can’t imagine what’s playing behind your Father’s eyes.

A strong hand grips your bicep, Lord Kang pulling you towards him. His eyes are like daggers as he scowls at you, “What is he talking about?”

In this situation, what are you to say? That you don’t know why he’s talking about and continue on? To accept this as a sign of fate and run away? You have no good explanation for what Yoongi’s doing right now. Much less an idea of where to begin with them throwing you on the spot.

You shake your head and try to pull yourself out of his grasp, “I-“

“Get your hands off her, at once!” Yoongi demands, storming up the small staircase and pushing himself between you and your betrothed. He stands tall with his back straight, his arm thrown over your arm that’s been grabbed. He acts as a barrier between you and Lord Kang, ensuring that even if he were to pull you, you’d still bump into him before he could run off with you.

Lord Kang cranes himself over Yoongi, attempting to intimidate him with his size, “You dare try to stand between me and my bride?”

You grab onto the back of Yoongi’s coat with your free hand, scared that Lord Kang really will attempt to pull you from behind him. Or worse, he’ll try to hurt Yoongi just to get to you. But Yoongi doesn’t falter.

The musician remains tall, mustering every bit of confidence he has to stand his ground, “We got married in secret 2 months ago by a warlock. The Royal Librarian to be more specific,” He emphasizes, dropping a hint of his own importance and status. It startles Lord Kang enough for Yoongi to remove his hand from your arm and move the both of you back a few steps. But he makes sure to show no visible signs of retreat, “His magic is binding and that makes this woman my wife.”

Lord Kang looks furious, and he turns to your Father for an explanation as the crowd begins to mutter around them. You pull at Yoongi’s coat and whisper furiously, “Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He turns around, finally able to face you for the first time in months. His hand gently raises to cup your cheek, “I’m buying you time.”

“Yoongi, we’re not married.” You remind him.

“If you still have any faith in your dream-! If you have any faith left in yourself, then please come and play! Please don’t sign yourself away when you can still perform for the Royal Family.” He pleads, keeping his voice hushed so others won’t hear his plan.

“Winning won’t stop my marriage. He already has my dowry!” You explain.

“Then you can pay it back to your parents with your winnings!” He argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I’d have to win first, and I’m not even on the list! I don’t even have an instrument to play either.” 

He shakes his head, “Yes, you are. And yes, you do.” He drops his hand and lifts up the case he’s been carrying, making quick work of the latches to open it up.

Inside is a violin, brand new and polished. It’s body is a lighter color, and you can’t tell if it’s made out of rosewood or spruce. But you couldn’t care less about the wood type when you’re completely distracted by the Larches carved into the skin. They decorate the outline of the body, acting like a chain. Everyone is detailed and softly etched so it won’t disturb your playing. Something like this must have cost a fortune.

You softly trail a hand over the etching before you look up at the brave pianist in disbelief, “Where did you get this?”

“I made it.” He admits sheepishly, his ears turning a soft shade of red. He averts his gaze to the piece in his hands, “It took quite a bit of work, but I stayed up for days just to finish it for you. I even made sure to put you down for a time that we can play together.” 

This time, it’s you who reaches out to cup his cheek, lifting his chin so he’ll meet your gaze. You search his eyes for anything, wondering what he must be thinking at a time like this, but all you can see is his sincerity. Thinking back on the first time you met, to end up here seems almost asinine, “You did all of this for me?” You ask.

“I-“ He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. It’s like he’s contemplating in his mind what he should say or how to explain his actions, but nothing seems good enough. He sighs, “We both have worked too hard to let this chance just slip away. You can still live out your dream.”

“You really think so?” You ask.

“I do.” He says. He takes a quick peek at his watch and his eyes go wide, “But if we want this to work, then we need to go.”

He starts to close the violin case, but you’re still left wondering what will happen here if you leave, “But the wedding-“

“Will be postponed until they can prove I’m lying.” He reminds you, that smug grin from earlier returning.

It takes you a second to realize that he’s right. They’ll have to get in touch with the officiant that orchestrated your ceremony, and that will still take days to finalize. If all works out, you’ll have already won the competition by then. Yoongi really did think of everything before he put his plan in motion, and you’ve never been happier to know someone like him. You can’t help but smile just thinking about it, “You really are a genius.”

“I know~” He teases, “Now come on.” He takes you by the hand and once again puts on a brave face for the crowd as you attempt to leave, “My wife and I will be going now.”

“Now, just you wait a minute!” Lord Kang steps in front of the two of you, putting a hand out to stop him. He tilts his head back, nose pointed upwards as he looks at Yoongi like he’s beneath him, “Her dowry has already been paid for! I’m not just going to let you walk away with her, nor will I give it back.”

“Then keep it. Unlike you, I can afford to marry a woman without treating her as a trade and still take care of her financially.” Yoongi assures him, “She’s my wife, so that’s my responsibility, but she’s not staying here with you.”

The Lord’s eyes narrow. It’s not hard to tell how entitled he is,especially when he gets face to face with Yoongi, “Who do you think you are?”

“I can be your worst nightmare if you don’t back off.”  Yoongi answers, remaining strong despite his distaste for confrontation. He can feel you shaking behind him, and he squeezes your hand to comfort you. He doesn’t want to subject you to this any longer, so he takes a deep breath to ease his own nerves, “Keep the money you’ve been given. Just leave us alone.” 

He pulls you behind him once again to go around Lord Kang, but the man makes no attempt to stop you this time. You think Yoongi’s actually done it when you hear your Father call from behind you, “(Y/n)-!”

Both you and Yoongi stop, looking over your shoulders to see your Father standing in the middle of the aisle, he seems angry, saddened, and embarrassed. You can only think of how this must have tainted your pride, and a part of you hates that you’ve put him in this situation. But it’s Yoongi’s comforting hold on your hand that has you remaining strong and resilient.

He gently tugs at your conjoined hands, “Let’s go. We can still make it.”

You spare one final moment of attention for your parents, before you turn on your heel and pick up the front of your dress to follow Yoongi out of the church. He stops just outside to help you grab enough fabric to keep you from tripping and holds it between your palms as you make your escape down the steps. You follow him down the cobblestone road, your heels clicking with every step you take. The wind tousles your pinned hair, a few pieces straying from where they were. But you pay them no mind. 

You continue to let Yoongi guide you behind a large crowd, a contestant currently playing with another pianist accompaniment on stage at the very front. You can see her Lady and Prince Seokjin on their stand, watching the performance front and center. You can already feel the nerves building in your stomach, but you try to push it down like you and Yoongi had worked on before you were torn apart.

He leads you to the side where kingdom guards keep watch over the contestants. One of them seems to recognize him and moves to let him through, “Yoongi! There you are! What took you so long?”

“I had some convincing to do.” He simply says.

The guard turns his attention to you, doe eyes looking you up and down before he turns back to Yoongi, “Is this her?” He asks.

Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens and you can see red rising to his cheeks once again, “We can do introductions later, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi pulls you along, Jeongguk waving after you. He drags you all the way to a tall man with brown, messed up hair standing by the stairs. A pair of wire rimmed glasses rest loosely on his nose as he stares down at a clipboard. A woman stands behind him on the first step onto the platform, resting her arms on his shoulders to read its contents.

The woman notices them approaching first, her eyes lighting up when she sees the two of you, “Yoongi!”

The man looks up as well, scrunching his nose to push his glasses further up. He smiles, “Hey! So, I’m guessing it actually worked?”

Yoongi looks to you and then back to the man, nodding, “Min (Y/n), please.” 

The woman immediately starts looking over the list, running her finger down the participants while Namjoon reads over them. Both of them seem very unfazed, but you’re taken aback, “Min?” You ask, feeling a bit of heat rushing to your face.

“We’re married, remember?” He teases, shaking your intertwined hands. The simple action makes you smile, and you can’t help but giggle with him.

“Oh!” The woman roughly taps her finger against the paper, “She’s next.”

“I’m next?!” You ask in shock. You turn to Yoongi in a panic, “Yoongi-!”

He’s quick to set the case down and grab you by both shoulders, making sure to look you in the eyes, “Stop, okay? You can do this. I know you can do this, just as we practiced.” He does something you would have never expected from him, using one of his hands to pull your head towards his and press your foreheads together while the other rests against your waist. He holds you tenderly against him, eyes closed, “It’s just going to be you and me up there.”

You’re left locked in his embrace, eyes staring at his calm facade. He’s done everything he told you he hates doing all in one day. Confrontation, causing a scene, showing public affection, and even running. He’s done it all just for you. And even after all of that, he still stands here trying to comfort you enough to break free from your troubles instead of taking a moment for himself.

He makes you feel safe.

You ease into his embrace, your fingers grabbing onto the fabric of his coat at his waist. You accept the comfort he offers you and take a moment to relax. You think of all the advice he’s given you so far, and all the wonderful memories he’s helped you create up until this point. You want to win and continue creating memories like those, but everything will be for nothing if you lose.

You squeeze your eyes in frustration and pull him closer, “Yoongi-…what am I going to do if I lose?”

“I guess I’ll have to cough up the money for your dowry and you’ll just have to be married to me for the rest of your life.” He says. You open your eyes and find he’s already looking at you. He seems content with the idea, and he smiles when he sees the shock written across your face, “Think you can handle having someone as grumpy as me as your husband?”

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve become friends or if this is all a part of one grand gesture, but you couldn’t care less. Not if he was offering himself to you, “I think I could learn to manage.”

The music on stage stops and the crowd breaks into applause, and you pull back just enough to look. The man and the woman who’d checked you in take that as their cue to head up on stage themselves, but not without wishing you good luck over their shoulders.

“Here-“ Yoongi leans down and opens the case, making quick work in removing the violin before you really do have to go on. He hands it to you, “-Just remember that it’s only you and me, and no one else, okay? Just play for you and me.”

You nod despite the anxiety building up in your system. Then suddenly, an important realization hits you, “I haven’t even tuned!”

“First of all, you don’t need to tune. Even without tuning, you’d still play beautifully. Second of all-“ He flicks your arm, leaving a small sting behind as he feigns offense, “How dare you assume that I - Min Yoongi - would give you an instrument in a time crunch and not tune it!”

“Let’s give him another round of applause!” The man encourages the crowd, clapping her hands after the boy coming your way. Behind him, the pianist that was accompanying him also makes his way down. He makes eye contact with Yoongi, and he nods.

“Let’s welcome back to the stage, Royal Pianist Min Yoongi!” The man announces, clapping his hands for everyone to join along.

“I need to get up there. Just breathe and I’ll see you on stage.” He assures you. He lets go of you and makes his way to the stairs, going up halfway before turning around, “I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. He just continues on to the stage, waving to the crowd as they applaud for him. You watch him from backstage with your violin in one hand and your bow in the other, seeing him disappear to his piano just like that. He’s sitting down at his piano to play with you.

And you’re going to join him.

“And for our next contestant…Min (Y/n)!” The two cheer together. They look to you from their spots on stage and you feel the air leave your lungs. Every part of you wants to run, but you know you can’t. You can’t run forever.

So you close your eyes.

Take a breath.

And you make your way up the stairs, holding your violin and bow in one hand and your dress in the other. Looking over the crowd from the stage, it looks like there are far more people than you anticipated. You cast your gaze over the Prince and his Lady, taking note of their watchful eyes. You hope no one minds your attire for today, though you can’t hear any protests over the sounds of the cheering. You glance at Yoongi and he offers you a comforting smile.

The man and woman wave you towards them, bright smiles on their faces. The woman offers a comforting hand on your elbow, “Miss Min, what piece will you be performing for us today?” She asks.

You try your best to refrain from looking down, mustering up all the courage you can to look at her as she speaks to you, “The 7th piece.”

“That’s the hardest one! Only 3 other contestants have played it for us today.” The man says, making your heart drop. 

It’s not that you weren’t aware the piece was hard, you just haven’t played the piece in a while. What if you forget what you were meant to be playing and you throw Yoongi off? What if everyone else did 10x better and you’re left looking like a fool for even trying. You’d disappoint everyone.

You’d disappoint Yoongi.

“I’m sure we’re all looking forward to hearing you play it.” The woman assures, squeezing your arm. She taps your elbow, drawing you out of your thoughts and offers you one last smile, “Please, do your best.”

You nod and she turns back to the crowd, “Min (Y/n), everyone!”

She, the man, and everyone else cheer once again, the two slowly backing away to exit the stage. They leave only you and your violin, and Yoongi and his piano. They leave the timing up to you, but you can already feel the nerves kicking in.

The eyes staring at you, the whispers finally reaching your ears. Even your own intrusive thoughts begin to sink in, and it makes your skin flare up like there’s a fire beneath you. It isn’t too late to back out. You’d just be the weird contestant who fled from her wedding just to flee from her other responsibilities as well.

You turn to eye your exit when you catch Yoongi’s stare from the corner of your eye. He sits with his back tall, hands ready on the keys, and waiting for you. He remains calm, and his eyes are only on you. He doesn’t look to the crowd, he doesn’t adjust his music, he barely even blinks. He just waits for you with a soft smile, like he knows there’s a war going on inside your head and he’s waiting to triage the broken parts.

You shake your head, squeezing the life out of the neck of your instrument, ‘I can’t do this…’ You mouth, your voice coming out in a hushed whisper.

You expect him to frown. You fully expect him to shake his head and tell you to go, but he doesn’t. He remains seated with that same, calming smile, “It’s just you and me.” He assures you.

That mindset is easier said than done.

He takes a deep breath. He emphasizes the intake and the release, trying to get you to mirror his actions just as he’s done before. He does it again and you try your best to mirror him, taking a few solid breaths of your own. He nods to your hands, and you get the message.

With a slight tremble, you gently separate your bow and your violin. You rest the body on your shoulder, tucking it underneath your chin. It eases the shaking of that hand, but the hand that holds your bow still trembles with uneased nerves.

Yoongi checks over his hand position once more - as he does start this piece - before he looks back at you, “The music. Fuel the music.” 

He’d said that to you before, the day he’d dressed you up for his own personal enjoyment and sent you out to the streets. He’d said that if they can’t see you, then they can’t really say anything good or bad about you. 

“But it’s not you that they’re judging. It’s the music and how you perform it. If you perform well, then you’re not bad. You might just not be the best, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

You try to let those words sink in, allowing the good memories to ease you. Everyone had cheered for a you they didn’t know. Everyone danced to a song they didn’t know was played by you. If they could do that, then maybe they’d do it again. And maybe it doesn’t really matter if they do or not. Even if you’re the worst performer today. Even if you perform so badly that they have to kick you off the stage, you’ll have done it. More importantly, you’ll have performed with Yoongi in front of the royal family just as you’ve been wanting to.

It’s now or never.

You straighten up and let your shoulders roll back, tightening the grip on your instrument to end the trembles. You give a firm, curt nod to Yoongi, letting him know that you’re ready. 

He nods back and adjusts his position one last time. He meets your gaze one last time, lifting his head up and softly counting off for the two of you before dropping his head and striking the keys.

You count with him, listening as he begins the soft ballad. You only rest for a few measures, and then you’re to join him for everyone to watch and listen. You don’t want to turn around, but you know you’ll have to actually perform if you want any chance at winning.

So, you close your eyes. You let yourself feel the tempo. You try to imagine that you’re not on a stage in front of hundreds of people, but back in your clearing in the woods. You try to picture the night sky and the stars above you. You try to imagine that the wind blowing through your hair is the same cool air that kicked leaves into your hair and crunched under your feet. You try to imagine a Yoongi that doesn’t play the piano with you, but sits on a log with his own eyes closed as he listens to you play. 

And then it is your turn to play. 

Yoongi’s lone melody echoes in the air at the hold in the music. He looks to you, trusting you to continue on as it’s written in the piece. He knows you’re nervous, and he knows that this situation is quite literally a make or break for you. But he knows your talent, and he knows deep down that you want this more than you’re willing to let your anxiety rule your life. He knows that you can. He knows that you’re going to be just fine.

And then, the sound of your first note rings out as you drag your bow over the strings. Your eyes remain shut, but your face is relaxed in pure concentration as you focus on the music and not the crowd. Yoongi plays along with you, adding his own part to help guide and support the music and your thoughts.

And his playing puts you at ease, the familiar clacking of the keys furthering your mental paradise. It reminds you of his escape in the woods, a cabin where he can create without any disturbance. You can see the warm glow from his candles illuminating his face as he plays, head bowed as he lets himself feel the music that he’s creating. You can see his pleased smile when something comes together. You can see him so perfectly.

You don’t even notice yourself turning around, playing for the audience instead of only playing for Yoongi. You don’t pay attention to the hushed praise or the eyes that linger over you. You think of only one set of eyes that would bore holes into your head if he ever caught you out late at night. A pair of eyes that belong to the raven-haired, piano prodigy that plays alongside you as - not an acquaintance anymore, but - a friend. 

Perhaps, he is much more than just that as well.

The thought makes you smile, and you want nothing more than to see the real thing for yourself. No more imagining Yoongi as he plays, but you want to see him. How could you miss such a wonderful opportunity to make a great memory when it’s right in front of you?

So, you turn back to him, leaning into the music and opening your eyes. You watch him as he plays along with you, his gold buttons and trim shaking as he performs. His movements are intense, but the music is nothing but graceful. The way he strokes and fingers the keys, making each note just as important as the last. He’s completely invested into the music, and it makes you smile to see him painted this way.

For a moment, he looks up to watch you as well, and he catches you looking back. He’s shocked at first, glancing between you and the keys, and wondering if you’re actually playing with your eyes open. But as he continues to play, and he continues to catch your stare, he can only beam with pride. 

No one misses the smile that grows on the usually cold pianist's face, and they don’t miss the bright smile that adorns your own when you finally turn back to the crowd. Even as you continue to perform for the audience, you still have moments where it looks as though you’re only performing for him. And in your own way, you really are only performing for him.

But it’s because he’s encouraged you to perform for yourself first.

Your piece finally comes to an end, both you and Yoongi nodding to each other at the cut off. It’s clean and precise, and you can still hear it echo in the wind as people begin to cheer. And it takes you by surprise to hear their applause. You spent most of your performance focused on Yoongi, that you forgot you were performing for a real crowd.

You let your eyes roam over the crowd, taking in their pleased expressions. You take in their smiles and their words of praise. You look to the Prince and his Lady, and you swear it almost looks as though the Lady has tears in her eyes as she politely claps her praise.

“Wow! What a performance?!” The man from earlier cheers, clapping his own hands as he makes his way to you with the woman right behind him. He stops on your left and motions for everyone to calm down and waits until they’ve eased enough, “I think we can all agree that that was quite the show!”

“Very beautiful, indeed~” The woman agrees from your right, “Why don’t you take a bow?”

She and the man take a step back, leaving you to bow on your own. But how can you bow on your own when you didn’t perform on your own?

So you turn back to Yoongi, finding him preparing the bench for the next pianist. You wave to grab his attention, nodding for him to join you at the apron of the stage. He hesitates for a moment, knowing that this is your moment and that being the accompaniment is all he’s meant to be, but you insist.

He leaves the piano to join you front and center on stage, blood already rushing to his ears. He steps between you and the woman on your right, looking just as nervous as you probably do. You move your belongings to one hand so you can grab his, but he stops you. He gestures to you, smiling at the crowd as he patiently waits for you to bow. You oblige, placing your free hand on your chest as you bow to the crowd in front of you. And when you come up, it’s your turn to gesture to Yoongi for his own moment of recognition. You can tell he’s not used to being in his own spotlight, but he still has more performances under his belt than you. And when he finishes his bow, it’s him that makes the grab for your hand. He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, before leading you into a bow together.

The crowd cheers you on, and when you stand up again it’s the man that announces this time, “Thank you both for your performance today!”

You bask in the moment, hand-in-hand with Yoongi for just a second longer before you both make your exit off stage for the next round of performers. As soon as you make it off the steps and back to the performers tent, you immediately drop Yoongi’s hand to throw your arms over his neck. It takes him by surprise, but he accepts it nonetheless. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You cry, holding him tight.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you, letting his arms wrap loosely around your waist, “I was happy to do it.”

“No, you weren’t. Not for all of it.” You remind him, making him chuckle. You pull away just enough to look at him, and you cup his cheek with your free hand, “You helped me make my dreams come true today, Yoongi. That means so much to me, and there are only so many ways to say thank you. How else can I show my appreciation?”

He ponders for a moment, seemingly hesitant once again. Only this time, he says what’s on his mind, “Maybe, you and I can continue to be married even if you win?” He asks sheepishly, a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Is that a marriage proposal? A real one, this time?” You tease, adding to the redness that’s already spreading over his face.

Even with the embarrassment he feels, he doesn’t let it stop him this time, “It is.”

You feel a mixture of happiness and embarrassment of your own at his answer. Of course, you’d love to marry him! You’d rather marry him than the man you were going to marry. You just can’t help how flustered the man makes you.

You use Yoongi’s hold on you to your advantage, loosely returning to his embrace and hiding yourself in his chest. He chuckles, but it’s cut short when you whisper for only him to hear, “Well, then I accept.” 

Yoongi lets the news sink in, pulling you tighter against him and hiding his face in your hair when it finally hits him. He can’t help but smile, “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls back again, moving one of his hands to push back a stray piece of hair. He lets his hand rest at the back of your head, meeting your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and you let out a sharp intake of breath. He studies you, your eyes and your face for any signs or refusal, but you don’t show any. If anything, you want to find out just as badly as he does.

He leans in, slowly inching closer to your face until you can feel his lips in front of yours. He hesitates, and you know he’s trying to give you one last chance to back out. But you don’t need a way out anymore. You lean forward, making the move to press your lips against his. You grab onto the nape of his coat, but it’s short lived.

“Yoongi-! Oh…” You both pull away, turning your heads to see the man from the stage tight-lipped as the woman taps his arms.

“Namjoon!” She scolds, obviously upset that he interrupted a moment.

“I’m sorry, Nari.” Namjoon apologizes to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He looks to you and Yoongi and bows his head, “Sorry, you two…”

“It’s fine.” You assure him.

“Yeah, no harm done.” Yoongi agrees. He takes a step back and grabs your free hand before you can pull it back all the way, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it like a promise. He lovingly smiles at you, looking through his lashes, “We have time.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks and you try to push it back down, but it’s almost impossible to push down the pride you have in this moment. You both have grown so much in the months that you’ve come to know each other, and that’s something you never thought would be possible. Even more so, you never thought that you would both fall for each other after the history you’ve created together. But you’re happy that you have.

“Miss Min!” Jeongguk calls. You both turn to the guard as he approaches, slightly worried, “There’s guests here to see you, Miss Min.”

“It’s Mrs. Min.” You correct, taking Yoongi by surprise. You notice and laugh, “Don’t give me that look when you just proposed to me!”

“So, you two admitted it!” Nari cheers, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“We did.” Yoongi confirms, squeezing the hand he still holds. He turns to Jeongguk and nods in the direction of the tent entrance, “Who wants to see her?”

“Her parents.” He answers.

You tense at the mention of your parents. You’d done so well putting the wedding, the crowd, and everything else behind you that you forgot about the consequences entirely. You can only imagine what they have to say to you. Even worse, what they may do to you after learning that you “married” without their knowledge, and left the wedding they arranged for you. You can only imagine the amount of trouble you’re about to be in.

“Hey-“ Yoongi shakes your intertwined hands, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We’ll talk to them together. I got you into this mess, and I’ll see that you get out of it one way or the other.”

“Here, I can take that for you-“ Namjoon offers, reaching out to take your violin out of your hands. You move to accept his offer, but both Yoongi and Nari try to intercept it before you can successfully hand it off to him.

Nari brings it to her chest, turning to Namjoon with a gentle smile, “I think I should take this one, Joonie.”

Her smile does nothing for him though, as he’s still very offended, “I’m not going to break it!” 

“I’d rather not take the chance.” Yoongi says, making you giggle.

Namjoon scoffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s not like I can’t fix it.”

“We know, Joonie, but it’s probably for the best if you stick to your books.” Nari pats his arm. You know she means to comfort him, but the poor man doesn’t seem very comforted.

He pouts, “I feel very targeted.”

Yoongi chuckles and turns to Jeongguk, “Why don’t you lead us to them, Jeongguk? We probably shouldn’t keep the in-laws waiting.”

Jeongguk nods and turns to lead the way, Yoongi following after him with your hand held tightly in his. Before, you had both run away hand-in-hand from the danger your parents were bringing you, and now you’re walking towards it. 

You see your parents just outside the tent, your Father waiting patiently with his arm over your anxious Mother’s shoulders. Though, their mannerisms switch when they see you approach with Yoongi. You try not to shrink when you see them, but you know you can’t help but feel smaller after everything that happened with them. You can only hope that Yoongi is still just as resilient as he’d been earlier.

“Here she is, folks. A very talented daughter with her very talented husband.” Jeongguk announces, moving the small wooden barrier so you and Yoongi can exit the tent to properly greet them. He doesn’t seem to notice the tense situation, but you, Yoongi, and your parents don’t make a mention of it. He smiles, “Make sure to be back before your next performance, Yoongi.”

“Will do. Thank you, Jeongguk.” Yoongi nods. He exits the tent with you, keeping you close now that you’re in front of your parents who don’t seem very happy to be there. He bows to them as his greeting and nods to a clear space just a bit further away from the crowd and the performances, “Should we move somewhere just a bit more quiet?”

“Of course.” Your Father agrees, deciding to remain civil.

For now.

Yoongi leads the way, holding your hand through the crowd. You do your best to stay with him, but it’s hard to walk with people stepping on the back of your dress every now and then. One tug has you almost tripping onto the cobblestone beneath you, and it’s a good thing Yoongi has a tight grip on your hand to keep you from tripping entirely. 

“Here-“ He drops your hand in favor of grabbing the train of your dress. He bunches the fabric up in his hand until he has enough that it won’t get stepped on as you walk. You try to take it from him, but he keeps a tight hold on it. Instead, he wraps an arm around your back and places his hand on your waist to keep you close. His actions have the heat rising to your cheeks once again, and you can feel lightness in your chest just from having him take care of you.

You make it to the open area and Yoongi stops, turning you both around so you can properly speak with your parents. He doesn’t move his arm, nor does he drop your dress. He waits for them to speak.

Your Father stands tall, your Mother’s arm locked in his. His expression is stern, one you’ve become accustomed to in the past few months. Your Mother seems conflicted herself, but your Father’s expression is almost unreadable.

“I have almost no words to describe how I feel at this very moment.” Your Father says. This is how most of his “disappointment” speeches start, showcasing his own emotions to make you feel even worse. Where most men would find their emotions to be a weakness, your Father always managed to use his to his advantage. Especially if it meant he could sway a decision of yours. Only this time, there’s nothing he can sway anymore. This time, he’s the one that’s been swayed. “I’ve been humiliated in front of the public, taken advantage of by some swindler who bed my daughter, and lied to by my own kin. Have you no shame for what you’ve put me through?”

Shame. 

That hits you hard. 

You’d never planned to bring shame to your family name. Only pride and honor. You’d wanted to be the best violinist in the kingdom, not the worst daughter a set of parents could ask for. Not when they’ve given you so much. But you couldn’t afford to lose yourself either. You had an opportunity for you, and you took it. And while it may have been a selfish act wrapped in chivalry, it was still something that you’ve planned to do since the beginning. Something your parents had encouraged at one point as well.

“Father I never meant to hurt you-!” You try to explain yourself, but your Father raises his hand.

“I’m not finished,” He spits. You shrink back into Yoongi’s side, and he squeezes your waist. Your Mother gives your Father a pointed look, but he ignores her, “You’ve tainted my pride. I’m very likely going to be scorned for years because of your reckless actions!”

He’s not wrong. Everyone may be distracted by the competition today, and maybe even a few more days after that! But it will fizzle out, and then the vultures will come looking for something to tear into. They’ll tear into your parents, they’ll tear into you, and they’ll even tear into Yoongi. While his actions have brought you together and granted you an opportunity you didn’t think you’d have a second chance at, it’s created a domino effect. And sooner or later, all of the pieces are going to come crumbling down.

Just the thought of what people may say or do rattles you, and you can only hope that you win this competition. Otherwise, you’ll be defenseless for years to come. Forced to hide behind another to shield yourself from their tyranny. And your parents won’t have anywhere to hide.

Your Father’s anger is justified, but it doesn’t take the sting of his words away. Nor does it coming into the open help to dissipate his shaking voice, “And what’s worse is you’ve gone and done something so remarkable! How can I be mad when you’ve finally taken a stand and put your fears behind you?!”

It takes you a moment to process what he said. Had you heard that correctly? You turn to Yoongi, confused, but he’s just as confused as you are. You turn back to your Father in hopes of clearing the air, “What…?”

It’s your Mother who finally pipes up, a content smile on her face, “(Y/n)…you played so beautifully up there!”

“You watched me perform?” You ask, shocked to hear they’d been in the crowd. You hadn’t seen them from the stage, but you weren’t really looking at the crowd. You were far more focused on other things than scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

“Did you think we’d let our daughter run from her own wedding and not follow her?” Your Mother laughs. You’d thought that they’d disown you the moment you left the church. You thought after everything that happened, that they’d be more than willing to write you off and take their chances with the loss. But you never thought they’d come and follow you. “We watched the whole performance. Everything!”

“Though, I didn’t anticipate your husband would be up on stage with you.” Your Father grumbles, eyes glaring daggers at Yoongi. He didn’t know everything Yoongi had done for you. They still didn’t even know the truth behind that morning they found you with Yoongi. It isn’t right or fair for them to judge him on a lie! And if he’s to be your husband from here on out, then they’d need to know the whole truth.

“Right, about that-“ You start, but you’re stopped by Yoongi pulling away from you. He drops your dress, and you’re confused until he drops to his knees and lowers himself onto the ground.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, bowing as low as he can possibly go. 

“Yoongi-!” He’s showing respect to your parents on the basis of a lie, and you can’t let him apologize for something that isn’t entirely his fault. But Yoongi doesn’t let you stop him.

“I should never have encouraged her to marry me so soon and without your blessing,” he continues, “I had hoped to court her properly, but I couldn’t control myself with a woman like her. Someone so kind, so beautiful, and so talented. Please, forgive me.”

Your Father eyes him, his demeanor unchanging. You look between the two, and you’re honestly worried your Father might take the chance to kick him while he’s down. But he’s much too prideful a man for that.

“Get up.” Your Father demands. Yoongi does as he’s asked, standing up once again in the face of your Father. He stares Yoongi down, thoughts racing through his mind that you wish you could hear. But they only come to you in the version of skin meeting skin. A harsh slap being brought down against Yoongi’s cheek.

“Father!” You cry. Your arms move to comfort Yoongi, but his right comes out to stop you from coming any closer. The pianist keeps his head held high in the face of your Father, but he doesn’t retaliate.

Your Father sees his resilience and sighs, “Let’s make one thing clear, Min Yoongi. I don’t like you. I don’t approve of you marrying my daughter, I don’t appreciate you going behind my back with her to do so, and I don’t appreciate you making me look like a fool in front of a family with such a high status.”

Yoongi nods, “I understand, sir.”

“But I can appreciate the confidence that you’ve helped her build and the encouragement you’ve given her to do her best.” He admits, much to your surprise. He seems almost accepting, despite what he’d said. He sighs, “And I suppose I can’t ignore the fact that you do take care of her.”

“He really does!” You assure him, placing your hands on Yoongi’s arm.

“Will you really pay back her dowry?” Your Mother asks.

Yoongi nods, “It’s my duty as her husband to do so. Down to the last copper piece.” 

“If you do that and you continue to care for her and you make her happy, then-…” Your Father extends an open palm to Yoongi, “I suppose we’ll learn to accept this less than agreeable situation.”

Yoongi shakes his hand, and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around your Father, “Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!” You cry. You pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “I promise, I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will.” He assures you, leaning down to place a kiss against your temple.

Your Mother squeezes in for her own hug, squeezing you tight before she returns to your Father’s side, “Go on. You shouldn’t loiter around here when there’s more performances to be had.”

“Right.” Yoongi agrees. He bends down to grab the fabric of your dress again, “We’ll come find you when she wins.”

“Yoongi! We don’t know that I’m going to win.” You remind him, cheeks hot with embarrassment from his praise.

“I’m confident you will.” He argues, a teasing smile on his face. He wraps his arm around you as he’d done before and bows to your parents, “Until later.”

“Until later.”

The two of you make your way back into the crowd, leaving your parents behind. Of all the ways that conversation could have gone, you didn’t think it would end like it did. 

“All things considered, I think that went very well.” You say to him, relieved that your parents weren’t entirely cross with you.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, “I’m not dead, so I think it went pretty well.”

“Does your cheek hurt?” You ask, remembering that he didn’t let you check after your Father hit him.

He shrugs, “It stings, but that will go away before dusk.” He pinches your waist and you look at him, seeing a mischievous smile on his face, “I’ll have you for much longer.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your first reaction is to elbow him out of embarrassment, “Don’t be so cheesy! It’s weird.”

“Why not? How is it weird?” Yoongi laughs, chuckling at your expense.

“Because it’s you!”

He scoffs, “Am I not allowed to woo you? And here I thought you liked my charming wit.”

You roll your eyes, letting your arms cross over your chest, “There’s no need to woo your wife.”

“I beg to differ.” Yoongi argues. He comes to a stop only a few feet away from the performers tent and pulls you towards his front. You gasp in shock, and he smiles, leaning down to place his forehead against yours, “You just wait until this whole ordeal is over with, then I’ll sweep you off your feet and show you just how charming I can be~”

“Yoongi-!” You scold, hitting his chest for being lewd in public.

“I meant proper courting!” 

—-

As soon as it started, the competition finally came to an end. Many contestants performed, having traveled the kingdom from far and wide just for the occasion. Everyone did their best, and you can only hope that your best was enough for you. You stand patiently in front of Yoongi, brimming with nervousness and excitement all at once. Yoongi does his best to keep you calm, but even he’s anxious to know who would win.

The only people on stage are Namjoon - who you’ve come to learn is the warlock that “officiated” your marriage - and Nari. They talk to the crowd and entertain them as the Royal Family makes their decisions, Namjoon’s magic being what helps them to amplify their voices.

“Just remember, even if you lose, you still did exactly what you said you would.” Yoongi reminds you, hands rubbing up and down your arms as if he’s trying to warm you up.

“I know…” You try your best to listen to him, knowing that he’s right. But the sting of losing will still hurt in the end with or without him.

“Oh, what’s this? Thank you, Sir (name).” Namjoon suddenly says, his voice cutting through the hushed chatter of the crowd and the performers, “It would seem a decision has been made.”

“Here we go!” Someone squeals behind you.

“I’m so excited!” Another voice chimes in.

“I can’t wait to get up there when they announce my name.” Another boasts, making your breath hitch.

Yoongi pulls you into his chest and rests his head against yours, “Just breathe.” He encourages.

You do, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against his. No matter what happens, you’ll still have Yoongi either way. You’ll still have your parents, you’ll still have the confidence you’ve slowly built, and you’ll still have your violin. Losing will hurt, but maybe you’ll be okay.

“What am I going to do if I lose?” You ask, working to keep your breathing steady. It’s just so hard now that everything is starting to come together. And with it all coming in at once, it’s so easy to lose it all as well, “I’ve spent so long dreaming of doing this, and now it may not even happen.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around your front and sighs, “Then we’ll find a new dream for you.”

“With much insistence from Lady Yeeun herself, our new Royal Violinist is…” You can hear Nari pause, adding to the suspense of the moment. It almost kills you inside just waiting for her to call the name of someone that isn’t you. You just want her to rip off the bandaid and get it over with so you can get on with your life and find a new dream.

“Min (Y/n)!” Namjoon yells.

You can hear the crowd burst into applause, and the claps and whines of those around you. It takes you a moment to even register that it was your name they announced until Yoongi starts to shake you from side to side in excitement.

“You did it! I told you, you would win!” He yells, squeezing you and jumping up and down.

“I won?” 

“You won!”

“I won!” You repeat, the realization finally sinking in.

You turn around in Yoongi’s arms to throw your arms over his shoulders, squeezing him just as tightly as he squeezes you. All of your hard work paid off. Every stupid exercise, every extra minute spent awake, and every painful moment of disappointment finally got you to where you want to be.

And he was there for all of it.

“Why don’t we get our winner on stage with us to take a final bow?” Nari asks the crowd, earning more cheers and hollers.

“C’mon-“ Yoongi pulls back and takes your hand, leading you to the stairs that lead to the stage, “They’re waiting for you.” 

You hesitate, “Just me?” 

“Go!” He encourages, picking up the front of your dress and offering you a nudge in the right direction.

You grab the front of your dress and do as he says, walking on stage once more, but as a winner this time. You can see the Royal Family standing just off to the far side of the stage, Namjoon and Nari standing in the center and waiting for you. They welcome you in between them at center stage.

“Please, take another bow!” Nari encourages, she and Namjoon stepping to the side to let you have your moment.

You do, allowing yourself to emerge in the feeling of the applause and the cheers for your win. After years of practice and dedication, you can finally say that you’ve accomplished your goal.

You stand up with a shy wave to the crowd, Namjoon taking this opportunity to slide in next to you, “Congratulations on your win! How do you feel?”

“Speechless.” You answer, truthfully unsure of what else you could possibly say. There was no word to describe everything you feel, “I really have no words for how I feel at this moment. I’m just so overwhelmed with emotion.”

“Well, perhaps you could provide us with a song that will describe your feeling to us?” Nari suggests, opening the stage to you for a final encore. The crowd seems to enjoy this idea as well.

“Can I really?”

“You can.”

You turn to the stage stairs to grab your violin, but Yoongi is already 3 steps ahead of you. He’s already walking up the stairs with your violin in hand to bring it to you, a proud smile on his face. You accept it from him, but you grab his sleeve before he can let go.

He knows what you want without you saying a word and frowns, “This is your moment.”

“I want to share it with you.” You plead. Had it not been for Yoongi, you would have never gotten this far. Had it not been for Yoongi, then you would have went through with your marriage today. Despite all of the personal progress you made to get where you are now, you would’ve have it if not for Yoongi. “We did this together.”

He smiles, feeling a bit bashful. It’s hard to ignore your request with you looking at him like that. He can’t help but give in, “Which rendition would you like to play then, Mrs. Min? Major or Minor?”

“I think…” You ponder which version you like more. The version you heard forever ago, once upon a time. Or the version you and Yoongi have added onto in the years that you’ve grown. A minor key invokes those emotions that play at ones own heartstrings but a major key? A major key makes you feel light and airy, as if you’re on top of the world. At this moment, you feel as if you’ve ascended into the stars, shining brightly above with the rest of them. 

There’s only one answer to give him. 

“I think - Mr. Min - that I’m feeling major.”

~ Fin~

#fae writes #FIM #Feelings In Major #sope and shine #myg #myg x reader #min yoongi x reader #min suga x reader #suga x reader #suga #bts suga #fluff #angst #hurt #comfort #fem reader #x reader #y/n #reader insert #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #y/n fic #hurt/comfort #happenstance #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #bts imagine #kingdom au

[piercethelenn]

Track thirteen — Rain.

Warnings: Swearing, death jokes || Word count: 1259.

On any other Saturday, Jungwon and his friends would have left the SVTA building together to hang out at Sunoo’s house, even having sleepovers on less busy weeks that would morph into an improvised eSports tournament along the way, to decide who would be the unlucky one to pay for everyone's dinner. But this was no ordinary weekend, and after Riki’s parents had picked him up and the eldest of the group had left with Liz and her friends, Jungwon was standing alone by the front door, watching with a defeated expression as thick raindrops fell from the gloomy, gray sky, creating a melody that would have comforted him in any other context.

He looked up at the giant clouds, almost being able to visualize Zeus and the Hyades laughing mockingly at him for being so pathetic, matching the weather with his current mood. He should have stayed quiet, that way Sunoo would have not replaced him with Liz. Jungwon thought before that being honest with his feelings was the best way to let go of some of the pressure, but in the end, it was the exact opposite, not only had he lost one of his best friends for a tantrum but was also about to face a long trip back home under this merciless weather.

一You’re not planning on walking under the rain, are you?一 A female voice spoke behind him, making him flinch in surprise as the sound of the raindrops had muffled her steps. The boy turned to see a smiley Y/N, who was handling him a box of chocolate milk 一A little bird told me that you are having a hard time recently一 Jungwon felt embarrassed, and a little exposed, but he managed to accept the drink and property thank his teacher. 一Do you need to talk about it? I mean, it's technically part of my job to assure the well-being of my students一.

Jungwon gazed outside again, there was no sign of the rain stopping soon. It was the first time in whole life that someone outside of his close circle had taken interest in his personal affairs, so he had no idea how to react to Y/N's request. He turned again to face her expectant expression, and finally decided to follow her back inside.

Heeseung was still in the classroom, practicing the piano again, which the girl found to be a bit odd, considering how he had no real interest in the instrument, and the practical exam took place long ago, but she decided not to question it and gestured for Jungwon to sit beside her on the old sofa located at the back of the room. The student stared at the vocal coach, distrust written all over his face, but decided to talk, nonetheless.

一As the little bird might have told you一 If Riki was a bird, he would probably be an ostrich, Jungwon thought to himself 一I got mad at Sunoo and now we're not on speaking terms… He doesn't even look at me anymore一.

Y/N nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue, but he had no idea how to do so. What exactly caused such a small argument to turn into such a big deal? 一Honesty, I don't even know what happened一 His fingers mindlessly played with the straw from the box 一I guess I was tired of Sunoo not caring enough about our friendship, always being focused on his own thing… We've been best friends for about two years now, but he literally forgot my last name! How does that make sense?!一 He emphasized the frustration in his voice with exaggerated hand movements.

The pianist felt genuinely surprised, not exactly about Jungwon's words, but rather because she did not expect him to actually talk to her about something that meant so much to him. This was the first time she had heard so many words come out of the boy's mouth at once, and she felt low-key proud of making him comfortable enough to share things like this with her. As cheesy as it sounded, Y/N really thought of her students as younger siblings.

一Of course I’m not asking for him to know my blood type or how long my nails are, I just wish he cared about me the way I care about him…一 His ramble continued, voice shakier by the second, but deep inside Jungwon felt relieved that someone was finally listening to his concerns 一...I always tried to help and comfort Sunoo all those times when he felt sad or when bad things happened to him, is it too much to ask to get the same treatment from him?一 He asked with gleaming eyes, the chocolate milk long forgotten.

Y/N sighed and gently patted his shoulder 一Of course it’s not! That’s what friends are for after all, you deserve to receive all the love you give, but I’m sure that Sunoo didn’t meant to hurt you一 She offered him a reassuring smile, but Jungwon was blankly staring at the floor, too ashamed to look at her in the eyes 一Hey, I know it’s not easy, but just like how you gathered courage to tell me all this, you must say it to him, too一 Her gaze fell on Heeseung’s back, he had stopped playing the piano long ago and was obviously eavesdropping on their conversation 一The only way a friendship can work out is when both of you are honest with each other, but as much as I know, Riki only told Sunoo to stay away, and then you started ignoring him… How can he know what’s going on if you don’t explain it to him?一

一If he wanted so bad to fix things why didn’t he approach me first to ask?一 Jungwon mumbled, finishing his drink in one go as if the chocolate milk could drown his sorrows. 一Also, he first tweeted about missing us but then he hangs out with Liz一 There was a particular tone of despise in his voice when he pronounced the girl’s name that reminded Y/N of those times when Jake would talk about other photography students getting better feedback from the teachers than him; She thought about how the boy could be feeling after being defeated in a one-sided competition to win Sunoo’s attention.

一Didn’t you specifically ask for some space?一 the pianist reminded him 一He’s just respecting your boundaries, I don’t particularly see him as the type to replace his best friends so easily, do you?一 She raised her eyebrows at him in a questioning manner, even though she already knew the answer.

一Of course not! I just…一 He shook his head and stood up from the sofa to throw away the empty boxes in the trash can 一You know what? You’re right, I need to go home and text him一. As if the sky could listen to him, a loud thunder echoed in the almost empty room, reminding him of the harsh weather outside.

Heeseung suddenly stood up from the bench in front of the piano 一I can take you both home in my brother’s car一 He gestured at the pair to pick up their belongings 一I can drop Y/N first and then take Jungwon to his house, I was planning on hanging out with Jeongin anyways一 There was a brief silence until both, student and teacher, decided that accepting the ride was their best option, so they did as told and followed the vocal coach outside of the building.

ㅤ

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A/N: Do you guys like pineapple on pizza?🧐

#Enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen lee heeseung #lee heeseung enhypen #heeseung enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen social au #enhypen social media au #enhypen smau #enhypen x yn #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #lee heeseung smau #lee heeseung social media au #heeseung smau #heeseung social media au #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung x yn #lee heeseung x reader #he sings in the morning

[superfamilyexchange]

Creator Reveals!

Thank you to everyone who signed up and participated. The works were spectacular and filled with so much love and creativity. It was a lot of fun to see so many people enjoy their gifts. Giftees, if you haven't had a chance, don't forget to leave lots of love for your Gifter!

Creators, you are now free to post about your fic. Be sure to tag us here on Tumblr so we can reblog. For those who haven't had a chance to read all of the fabulous works, check out all of this year's gifts on our AO3 Collection page.

And finally to the Creator Reveals!

Below the cut...

back on the track by wingheads for ralsbecket, Artwork

ever since he could remember, steve has always wanted to visit the grand canyon. superheroing and raising a family has kept him busy, but for their wedding anniversary, tony packs up steve and the kids for a cross-country road trip to arizona.

Hope Your Heart Is Strong Enough by Coffee_and_notebooks for Infinitywrites, 7.1k Words

"They're marrying me off to Lord Stone," Tony admits, and Jarvis immediately frowns. "Are you certain?" "I heard them talking about it." "I always told you that sneaking around was going to get you into trouble one day. But I see it has done some semblance of good. You cannot allow this to happen. I will not see you waste away under Lord Stone's mercy."

everything the heart desires by ArabellaAM for Coffee_and_notebooks, 16.5k Words

Omega!Tony is a new pianist that's just started working on this season's London balls. It's not what he wants to do, but it pays well, and money is important as a single parent when he has a two-year-old at home. Alpha!Steve is the heir of the Rogers' title, but that's not the only thing he's known for: in all the years he's been the most coveted bachelor, he's never been seen dancing with anyone at the balls, and is rumored to have sworn off marriage. He thought so too, at least until he crosses his gaze with that pianist for the first time. Then, everything changes.

Concentric Circles and Shiny Corners by geekymoviemom for Skeeter_110, 6.7k Words

Parenting a genius kid is hard. Parenting a genius kid with super powers is even harder. So, it would follow that parenting a genius kid with super powers while loopy on painkillers would be… well… interesting. Or, Peter needs his wisdom teeth out, and everything is shiny.

Trying to Find My Way Back by ralsbecket for geekymoviemom, 5.3k Words

After half the universe got Dusted, Peter didn't find a lot of things surprising anymore. (Except for when a girl with star powers landed him in another universe; admittedly, that was a surprise.)

The Best Laid Plans by ChocolateCapCookie for imeanthatsprettysnazzy, 3.6k Words

“Pete, we need to set dad up with Mr. Rogers!” said Harley excitedly. “Think about it, they’d be perfect for each other! Dad’s always so tired and stressed, he could use someone like Mr. Rogers to calm him down a bit. And I know Mr. Rogers is single, he’s always talking about it being just him and his dog…” “Harley, this is a stupid idea,” Peter interrupted. “You don’t know that Mr. Rogers is into men. And even if he was, what do you want to do, lock them in a closet together?” "Yes." "No, Harley"

hard at work by starksnack for captainstars, 1.5k Words

Whoever came up with Take Your Kid To Work Day probably never worked for SHIELD. Or had a three-year-old who loved food but sometimes thought non-edible things could be edible with the power of imagination.

forecasted therapy by parkrstark for tamaranianprincess, 1.5k Words

Tony can’t help but think about all the reasons why they shouldn’t when he and Steve adopt Peter.

Till Forever Falls Apart by Infinitywrites for starksnack, 4.3k Words

“Hey bubba! How are you?”, “I’m shiny, Daddy! But Papa is not feeling so good”, “What do you mean, Tesoro?” “Papa is hot and sleepy”, Well, that’s fact, Tony thought, chuckling to himself. (or) When Tony Stark is half around the world for a Business Trip, Peter Parker, His 5 year old son, calls him to tell him that Steve is not feeling so good. Cue Tony coming back and reassuring and taking care of his Sick Omega Husband.

Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name? by Perlmutt for VeroCaroline, 5.6k Words

Peter has an existential crisis on his first day of kindergarten.

Build with love, your life by captainstars for UisceOneLove, 4k Words

“Oh!” Peter gasped. The kid’s reactions reminded Tony of the emojis Rhodey liked to send him a slew of. “Are you going to make me, like, your protege or something, Mr. Stark?????”

The (Totally Not Fun and Really Scary) Adventures in Rescuing Tony Stark by Girl_Back_There for Pookiethefrickinbunn, 12k Words

Iron Man is missing, presumed dead after his mansion was attacked by an international terrorist. So, who's going to rescue the day? Iron Man's teenage son of course! Accept this is way more than Peter has ever encountered as New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Peter needs help to find and rescue his dad and the only person he can turn to is the one person he never wanted to see again. His ex-papa, Steve Rogers.

How Do You Know They're Yours by UisceOneLove for lizzeth, 1.5k Words

Peter has a question for Steve and Natasha.

An Act of Love: Confession by Skeeter_110 for ChocolateCapCookie, 2k Words

If there's one thing everyone needs to know about Tony Stark, it's that he absolutely loathes magic; especially when it's used against him. Like now. Loki decided that it was a great idea to put a spell on Tony and Steve that made them, not only have to take care of some random baby, but also not able to leave Tony's floor until one thing happened; a love confession.

Love is another Higgs particle by VeroCaroline for wingheads, Artwork

Tony is trying to create a worm hole just to find there are other universes that look the same, but are very different! Tokophobia is definitely a new word in Tony´s dictionary. The A/B/O fan art you´ve never asked for…

Warning: Secrets May Have Consequences! by Pookiethefrickinbunn for parkrstark, 5k Words

The brain fog slowly began to seep out of Steve’s head and more and more details came to him. He had been on his way to pick up his boyfriend's 11 year old son from school. No, scratch that. He had picked him up from school. … “Steve! Help!” Peter screamed and without a second thought Captain America stormed the room. In an instant three men were on him, attempting to tackle him to the ground. Steve easily shook them off, leaving them incapacitated on the floor, only to realize a few seconds later that fighting him was not their main objection. Getting the syringe full of Super Soldier tranquilizers that was currently lodged into his neck was. Steve felt his world begin to tilt and suddenly he was hitting the ground hard. All the while Peter was screaming for him. Oh God. Peter They had Peter.

The Joys of Early Morning Hunts by lizzeth for Perlmutt, 3.5k Words

During the mer's morning hunt, humans have breached the peaceful dome in which the fishfolk of SHIELD reside. In the panic of swimming to their caves and seeking spots to hide, Tony finds himself desperately looking for his gup, Peter. But the humans are close, where could Peter of gone?

Look Into His Angel Eyes (One Look And You’re Hypnotized) by EmmaElsa0000 for Neverever, 2.3k Words

Tony never thought he’d find a family. Yet here he is, his “family” now being a tall blonde, the living embodiment of a puppy dog, a scary redhead in heels, and a grumpy air force pilot.

Finding A Way Back by Neverever for MercurialMagpie, 4.2k Words

When Tony hurts his back, ex-husband Steve stays with him to take care of their son, Peter. Peter likes this arrangement a lot.

The Artistic Method by MercurialMagpie for ArabellaAM, 2.5k Words

Steve is perfectly happy with his life, and his career teaching art. That is, until a bright young man and his brilliant father intrude on his peace.

when your waiter looks like a greek statue by imeanthatsprettysnazzy for Girl_Back_There, 1.8k Words

Sadly, it was getting harder for Tony to pretend that he hadn’t caught feelings for the cute waiter. Peter wasn’t a little kid anymore, and he was capable of recognising that Tony had a crush on the man now – he wouldn’t have caught on to that little detail when he was a kid, and boy, did Tony miss those days now. “I reckon you should just go for it,” Peter said decisively. “He seems like a cool dude" (or, single dad tony realllyyy needs to go on a date, even if his son is the only one who seems to think so)

Home for the Holidays by tamaranianprincess for EmmaElsa0000, 2.2k Words

Steve surprises his husband and son when he comes home from overseas.

Thank you, creators, for all of the love and work you put into your gifts! Hope to see you all again next year!

#superfamilyexchange #superfamily #superfam #work reveals #creator reveals #steve rogers #tony stark #peter parker #gift exchange #captain america #iron man #spider man